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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28199910">The Winter Woods</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fungumunguss/pseuds/fungumunguss'>fungumunguss</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff and Angst, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, I think?, Jaskier | Dandelion &amp; Triss Merigold Friendship, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Roach is a cat, Romance, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, geralt will come soon enough, it's some sort of au, jaskier has no self preservation, jaskier pov for the first few chapters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:21:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28199910</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fungumunguss/pseuds/fungumunguss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Woods. Rumored to hide monsters of your deepest fears and that whoever enters never makes it out alive. </p><p>So, naturally, Jaskier, being utterly smashed and utterly heartbroken over the Countess's betrayal finds it to be the perfect spot to drunkenly wail his broken heart. No one will hurt him again when he disappears into the woods. </p><p>Forever. </p><p>So how in the hell does he wake up in his bed the next morning alive?</p><p>Or: </p><p>Geralt's a hermit in the woods. Jaskier's a curious bastard who never knows when to leave something alone. This will go about as well as you think it could.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>154</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Cold In The Woods</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'M BACKKKKKKKKK.</p><p>This is my pseudo Christmas fic but not really. It's just kinda winter themed. This fic is VERY different than Batshit but, as always, will had wonderful outfit inspirations at the end and all the great tropes we love.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>The Winter Woods</p><p>Chapter 1</p><p>Cold In The Woods </p><p>
  <em>“It was the forest’s fault. Those two handsome woodcutters. An evil place, the forest, everyone knew it, full of temptations and imps...”<br/>― Tanith Lee </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“You bloody badgering woman!”</p><p>“Jaskier—”</p><p>“NO! How <em>dare you</em>. After all that I’ve done. After all that I’ve given and now <em>this?</em>”</p><p>“<em>Jaskier—</em>”</p><p>“You, Virginia, are the cruel woman who can go fuck herself into oblivion. Or perhaps the lake behind your house if oblivion is too <em>quaint</em> for your liking.”</p><p>“Jaskier. Really. This is very unbecoming of you—”</p><p>“Oh? <em>UNBECOMING?</em> I am anything <em>but</em> unbecoming you wretched wench! Fuck you. And your mansion. And your body. And your wealth. You think you can just parade around with your riches, wooing every man to you but no more! Whoever is the new fellow in your bed I hope he<em> croaks.</em>”</p><p>The day had been going <em>splendidly.</em> Jaskier, eager to see his beloved and shower her with his latest musings of her beauty, had prepared a special serenade just for her.</p><p>The Countess de Stael.</p><p>She was everything a man could want in a woman. Daring, beautiful, wealthy (though it was more her deceased husband’s wealth than her own, but riches are riches regardless of who they belong to) with a lovely figure that was perfectly shaped to be worshipped. She was intelligent, crafty, cunning. She knew how to woo a man, to lure him to her bed and Jaskier, when he had first met her, knew there would be no other to compare.</p><p>So, with his guitar in hand he had gone inside her home, ready to surprise her with his song. He snuck upstairs, slinking to and fro, arriving at her bedroom door, prepared to sing his heart out.</p><p>Until he heard the sounds of lovemaking. His heart shattered as he flung open the doors, bearing witness to her in the midst of an orgasm, as the man beneath her grinned salaciously at her deeply satisfied sigh.</p><p>It all went to shit after that.</p><p>So now, Jaskier is grabbing his things and throwing them into his bag, storming around the Countess de Stael’s home. He’s in a fury, eager to get his stuff and then get <em>wonderfully </em>drunk to forget the entirety of his affair with the evil temptress.</p><p>They had been in love. A glorious relationship with tender touches, yearning looks, and <em>excellent </em>sex. While he never had the intention to marry the woman (gods. <em>Marriage</em>. A vomit inducing thought) they at least had been in a <em>committed entanglement. </em></p><p>Or so he had thought. Perhaps <em>that</em> had been the problem.</p><p>Once he gathers all his things, Jaskier glares furiously at the Countess, whose arms are crossed with one eyebrow raised.</p><p>“You’re making a fool out of yourself Jaskier.”</p><p>“Nonsense. You’re the fool. Choosing a coward over me?”</p><p>“He’s a wealthy businessman.”</p><p>“Hanging onto your fortune by a thread then.”</p><p>He sees her eyes twitch bringing a deep smugness to the brink of his soul. <em>Good. </em>The woman can go bathe in frivolity and the illusion of true love. Goodness knows it’s the only thing she’s good at.</p><p>“Goodbye she-wolf.”</p><p>An exasperated sigh with a faint goodbye merely bounces off his ears as he slams the door shut.</p><p>Now. To get absolutely smashed and forget this entire escapade of what he had <em>dim wittingly </em>believed to be love.</p><p>“Gods, what an idiot I am.” he says as all that burning anger flickers out. He runs a hand down his face before it goes through his hair. Jaskier wishes that just for once, he can find someone who will return the same amount of affection that he so graciously gives.</p><p>“Alas.” Only the night air hears his sorrowful sigh.</p><p>Now, sad and melancholic, Jaskier meanders his way to his home. He just needs to drop off his things and then forget the Countess and her sordid affair with <em>he who shall not be named. </em>Who knows where he will go from there once he is blessedly drunk. Perhaps he’ll go for a moonlit walk on the cobblestone roads.</p><p>No. That’s <em>utterly</em> depressing. A single lad and a bottle of wine, walking alone in the moon’s rays, on a starry night. No. He’ll wing it when he’s dived deep into the bottle and see where his drunken mind takes him.</p><p>“There you go my darling.” He places his guitar gently in his bedroom, tucked safely into the corner. He dumps his belongings from the mansion on the floor. Taking them back was more of a statement rather than an actual desire to keep them. Jaskier figures he’ll just burn them later.</p><p> “Well, lovelies, I shall be off now to get good and drunk and I shall see you, possibly, tomorrow morning. Maybe the afternoon. Who knows.” Jaskier twirls away, locking his front door once he’s outside and whistles a miserable tune as he makes his way to the local pub.</p><p>Thankfully, the Countess believed herself to be above local gatherings with the townsfolk, so he won’t need to worry about her making an appearance. Besides, she’s got her new fellow now. “Fucking prick.” Jaskier mutters as the image of her and him replays once again.</p><p>He picks up his pace to the bar.</p><p>In true fashion to who Jaskier is at his core, upon his arrival he slams the door open, stopping all drinking and gambling as a multitude of eyes fall on him. He basks in it for a moment, before catching a redhead beauty at the bar with one eye raised in mirth until she sees the sorrow that exudes from his frame.</p><p>Jaskier makes his way over, the people in the bar now resuming their activities and the musician plops himself down, across from his dear friend.</p><p>“Let me guess, the countess and you are no longer an item?”</p><p>“Indeed my dear Triss. Though, I’m starting to believe we never were an item in the first place.”</p><p>Triss gathers up some ingredients from behind the bar and pours him a cocktail to sooth his woes. He shoots it back, wincing slightly before pushing the glass back to her.</p><p>“You know I’m just filling in for Greg right? As soon as he’s back, he’ll cut you off.”</p><p>“Then we best make sure I get my fill with you here hm?”</p><p>Triss shakes her head. “I really shouldn’t enable you.”</p><p>“No, but I helped you when that witch of yours upped and left in the middle of the night, not a word left behind and <em>you </em>decided to lose yourself in the golden liquid commonly known as tequila.”</p><p>An eyebrow goes up, a sigh emerges. “Fine.”</p><p>“Excellent. Now, let’s get sloshed shall we?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Late into the night is when Jaskier comes to. His head is laying on a cool table, his jacket long gone, the noise around him faint, except for an impatient tapping of a shoe. He slowly raises his head, preparing a roguish grin to charm Triss until he realizes that it <em>isn’t</em> his favourite redhead but instead is Greg, the bar’s “saintly” patron.</p><p>The man is burly as they come, dastardly Viking in appearance with severe braids and tattoos stretching all across his skin, telling stories of his lineage, the world he came from, and the world he will enter when he passes.</p><p>Or, in less poetic terms, the man is as beautiful as he is frightening, and Jaskier has learned <em>several </em>times that when Greg taps his foot, he leaves; head bowed, and tail tucked between his legs.</p><p>Which is <em>exactly</em> what he does underneath the scrutiny of Greg.</p><p>“Get home safe ya hear?” the man states, pity ringing loud and clear in his voice. Well, he can just go fuck himself can’t he?</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t say that last part aloud. He may be drunk, but he isn’t an <em>idiot. </em>Usually.</p><p>“Of course.” he speaks, though the words come out a tad more slurred than he’d like. Greg merely shakes his head, shoves a bottle of water in his hands and slams the door to the pub right in the musician’s face.</p><p>“Rude.”</p><p>Triss is long gone, which must mean that she went home a while ago. Now it’s just him and this bottle of water as he makes his way back home. There’s no one to distract him from his woes, so his mind, being the utter devil it is, begins to show the memories from him seeing the Countess with her new lover.</p><p>The sorrow stabs his heart. “I do not know if I shall ever love again.” Jaskier cries, falling to his knees. The wind sweeps leaves across the cobblestone, the air continues to get chillier by the minute and only nature hears his grief as tears run down his cheeks.</p><p>He sniffles a bit, once the crying subsides as he rubs his hands together and blows on them for warmth. “Fuck. Should’ve brought gloves.” Jaskier huddles into himself. It doesn’t really make him any warmer but at least he can pretend it does.</p><p>Loose pebbles skitter across the path as he stumbles back up to his feet and along the way home. His eyes are slightly glazed, dim from the remaining alcohol in his system despite the slight sobering he’s done from passing out on the table.</p><p>Slowly his voice stirs inside until he is belting out, “<em>When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore.”</em> The e drags out, slurred together into the next line, <em>“When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine, that's amore,” </em>If Jaskier wasn’t utterly gone on vodka, he’d recognize how off key he is. Alas, he isn’t aware and continues to sing.</p><p>A door slams as a voice shouts,<em> “SHUT UP.” </em></p><p>“NO! I shall<em> lament </em>my woes through music!”</p><p>
  <em>“Then do it elsewhere you prick!” </em>
</p><p>Another door slams. Jaskier sighs, knowing that his inner bemoans are no longer welcome in the town. Well, he’ll just have to find somewhere else to cry won’t he?</p><p>And perhaps this is where Jaskier should have soundly denied himself based on the broken heart, loss of cognitive rational, and inability to speak proper sentences, that the idea his brain formed was absolutely foolhardy.</p><p>“The winter woods.”</p><p>Jaskier grins, the first smile since the Countess’s home.</p><p>He’ll weep his heart out in the winter forest, where only the trees and night air will hear his sorrow and will <em>appreciate </em>him.</p><p>Should he do it? <em>Absolutely not. </em>But Jaskier’s never been good at self preservation. And if he happens to get hypothermia, well, it’s not like there’s anyone at home waiting for him, is there?</p><p>So with a renewed confidence, Jaskier walks, beelining for the forest. He passes his home which sits on the edge of the treeline and begins to trail his way inside the woods.</p><p>Now, the winter forest is not called the winter forest because it is always cold (though it is, in fact, always cold), but because the trees are always white, as if snow had just freshly fallen. Legend says the forest is cursed to be bound in a winter façade, to keep innocents out but lure corrupts in where beasts of the darkest nature waited to consume their flesh and bones.</p><p>“Whole bunch of hogwash.” Jaskier mutters as he steps over a fallen branch, his mind recounting the tale told to children to keep them in the town. “Utter bollocks.”</p><p>A quick glance back to see entrance, shows Jaskier that he is lost in the woods because he can no longer see the lights from the town. “Must’ve stumbled off the path.”</p><p>He shrugs, resuming his journey further in. The brunette whistles a faint tune to accompany him as he glides amongst the trees with the freezing wind licking his skin and sinking into his bones. His movements begin to slow down as time relaxes.</p><p>It is quiet in the woods tonight, Jaskier notes. Until a howl lets loose somewhere deeper inside. He pays it no mind. In fact, he ignores it altogether as he comes into a nice little clearing, believing it to be an excellent spot to rest.</p><p>He settles himself onto the cool grass, which bends and sighs as his body lays down. The cold lays a heavy blanket over him, wrapping him tightly in its embrace, and lulling him to a deep slumber.</p><p>Jaskier knows he should keep his eyes open, his mind finally beginning to clear with every sharp intake of breath. But he’s tired, weary from his heartbreak, emotionally wrecked from yelling and crying and drinking and singing.</p><p>“She was supposed to be the love of my life. So, dear woods, just a few minutes of unbothered rest. That’s all I need.”</p><p>And with one finally long sigh, Jaskier succumbs to the winter woods curse.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“COCK A DOODLE DO.”</p><p>“Bloody <em>fuck.</em> Can’t wait for that bird to croak.” Jaskier groans as he burrows deeper into his warm sheets. They feel as if they’ve been taken right out of the dryer, nice and crisp and toasty.</p><p>Wait.</p><p>
  <em>Wait a minute. </em>
</p><p>His brow furrows.</p><p>This isn’t right.</p><p>Flashes of last night pour into his mind as he shoots up straight out of his bed.</p><p>“How…”</p><p>He looks at his hands. There’s nothing out of the ordinary. They aren’t scarred or have any frostbite on them. But he had been <em>definitely</em> cold last night.</p><p>In fact, he shouldn’t even be in his home. The winter woods should have swallowed him whole.</p><p>What in the buggering fuck?</p><p>“Triss.” He scrambles out of his bed, falling face first onto the hardwood floor before bouncing up. He flings open his wardrobe, scurrying through it for clothes which he tosses on hazardously.</p><p>He at least slows down in the bathroom with his hair (he may be in a rush, but he is a vain creature, and beauty takes<em> time)</em> before entering his bedroom to grab his notes for work which he left on his desk.</p><p>He heads over, scuffling the pages about, searching for those documents but pauses. “What is this?” On his desk lays a note, on paper he’s never owned. The script is poorly written, almost illegible, but thankfully there are so few words that he can make it out.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strong>“Do not enter the woods again.”  </strong> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Fascinating.” Jaskier’s eyes go wide as he reads the note a few more times.</p><p>His fingers faintly trace the ink, following the scrawls of each letter. A strange feeling begins to bubble in his chest.</p><p>Someone rescued him from the woods last night. That <em>has</em> to be it. Because there is no other way he would have made it home alive.</p><p>Someone <em>saved</em> him.</p><p>And that someone must be the person who wrote this note.</p><p>“Sorry love, but I’m going to find out who you are and thank you properly.”</p><p>Jaskier kisses the note, tucks it into his pocket and then heads out for work, a new jive in his step that wasn’t there before.</p><p>He’s got his own little guardian angel from the looks of it. Now, to find them and thank them for saving his life. He’ll have to ask Triss to see if she knows anything about it. (Logically, it’s probably her who saved him, but he can dare to dream right?)</p><p>He fails to notice the cloaked figure at the edge of the forest, watching his every move as he skips towards the town square and away from the winter woods.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Outfit Inspiration </p><p> </p><p>Jaskier: </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Countess: </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Triss: </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Legend of the Woods</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter 2 is here! This one's kinda...you know...setting the stage a bit. Enjoy the EXPOSITION. (Who doesn't love a little exposition amiright?) </p><p>Enjoy lovelies! :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Winter Woods</p><p>Chapter 2</p><p>The Legend of the Woods</p><p>
  <em>“That's how it is with legends. The greater they sound, the more must've got left out.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>― Tim Tharp, Knights of the Hill Country</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Triss’s shop sits in the middle of the town square. It isn’t as luxurious as the local grocer, or as cozy as the inn, but it <em>is</em> rather bewitching, (or at least, Jaskier thinks so but no one else seems to agree; buffoons the lot of them).</p><p>The redhead, of course, <em>hates</em> it when he refers to it as a “magical” place due to the townspeople reluctance to accept chaos as an <em>actual living force</em> in the Continent. They are kind people, but certainly narrow minded to the mystical.</p><p><em>Speaking </em>of narrow minded folk, Jaskier waves hello to some of the passerby as he makes his way to the quaint little building. Some of the older women stand on their corner, whispering to each other and then shushing when he comes into view. He winks at the old crones, who giggle in delight as a rosy blush pats their cheeks. He chuckles to himself as he opens the door, and the bell jingles his arrival. <em>Goodness</em> they are funny old birds. One minute they’re sharing dirty little secrets about him (<em>Gods forbid </em>they speak on anything <em>practical</em>), the next their swooning under his gazes.</p><p>“Triss?”</p><p>“I’ll be out in a minute!”</p><p>The inside of the shop is covered in plants, herbs, flowers, bottles of spices and natural remedies. Ivy hangs from planters attached to the ceiling and the smell of burning sage lingers in the store.</p><p>“Triss are you alright? It smells like you’ve been smudging up a ruckus.”</p><p>“Jas is that you?”</p><p>Moving through the narrow aisles up to the counter, Jaskier can see the redhead’s backdoor open. He taps the bell, and she pokes her head out.</p><p>“It <em>is</em> you! And look, you’re alive. I’m just prepping a little hangover helper for you.”</p><p>“You are a <em>godsend.</em> I’ll need it before heading over to the Riannons.”</p><p>“So, what’d you get up to after I left? Sorry about kinda ditching you. I had to prep some orders for early pickup today.”</p><p>“It’s fine. And well, that is <em>partially</em> why I’m here actually.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“Yes. You see, after I got <em>absolutely </em>smashed, I blacked out—er—<em>passed</em> out, quite possibly both, I woke up and Greg kicked me out.”</p><p>“That sounds about normal.”</p><p>“Yes, yes, laugh at Jaskier for continuing to irk the handsome patron of the local pub.”</p><p>Triss just laughs as she comes out and pushes her concoction to him. Jaskier swigs it down, grimacing at the aftertaste.</p><p>“That is <em>absolutely</em> horrendous.”</p><p>“Does the trick though.”</p><p>“I suppose. Not sure it’s worth it.” He swears the leftover liquid flashes a murky brown.</p><p>“Uh huh. Continue with your story.”</p><p>“Right. So. I’m off outside, drunk and full of melancholy, with a broken heart and, hold your tongue because I <em>know</em> you’re going to be an absolute menace about this, I get the <em>superb </em>idea to go into the woods.”</p><p>Triss freezes, her eyes going wide. He sees her strain to keep the words in, but they tumble out anyway. “Why, <em>on earth, </em>would you do that?!”</p><p>Jaskier blinks bewilderedly. “I was <em>drunk!”</em></p><p>She slaps his head. “Even a drunken idiot knows not to go into the woods, <em>at night. </em>You’ve heard the legends.”</p><p>“The legends are absurd, and you know it.”</p><p>“They hold some truth Jas. Legends are never based on fiction.” Triss sighs out, eyes full of disappointment. He looks away. Gods, he despises when she goes from pissed to <em>pitying. </em></p><p>It makes him feel like a child.</p><p>“Right. And the truths that these legends were originally crafted from get spun out of control into something heavily exaggerated to instill fear and control. I enjoy dramatics, more so than your average folk, but I don’t let glorified pieces of someone’s poor imagination deter me from pursuing the truth behind the narrative.”</p><p>“Don’t you do <em>exactly that</em> in your songs? Glorified pieces from your imagination?”</p><p>Jaskier bites the inside of his cheek and sniffs indignantly. “Not the point darling.”</p><p>“Uh huh. Right. So, <em>you</em>, being a drunken ass, went into a danger zone, at night, alone.”</p><p>“Yes. And well, I fell asleep.”</p><p><em>“You fell asleep in the woods?” </em>she hisses.</p><p>While Jaskier knew Triss wouldn’t have been pleased with his carelessness, he <em>is </em>surprised by the sheer venom in her voice. This anger isn’t a simple annoyance that Jaskier can usually brush off with a charming grin. No. This is a<em> genuine </em>fury that makes him a <em>tad</em> afraid of the sorceress.</p><p>“<em>Please </em>put your magic hand down. You certainly don’t want a murder on your hands, especially concerning the town troubadour.”</p><p>She rolls her eyes. “One, you’re not as popular as you think you are and two, I’m pissed but I’m not going to kill you.”</p><p>Jaskier tenderly rubs his neck. “Says you. I just haven’t found the right story to tell.”</p><p>Triss rolls her eyes and mutters, “Glorified pieces my ass.”  </p><p>He gives her a droll look. She shrugs. “So, you were in the woods, sleeping?”</p><p>“Mhm. And when I woke up, I was in my bed, in my house, and this note was on my desk.” He takes it out of his pocket, pushing it across the counter to her. She picks it up and looks it over.</p><p>“Weird.”</p><p>“So you didn’t find me in the woods and bring me home?”</p><p>An eyebrow goes up. “Definitely not. I pretty much went to bed when I left the pub. Someone else must have found you.”</p><p>“Any ideas?”</p><p>“No. Because no one is stupid enough to go into the winter woods, <em>alone,</em> at night.”</p><p>“Well…you’re no help.”</p><p>“Look, Jas, just be thankful someone found you and you didn’t die of hypothermia. Wait…you didn’t go out there to…”</p><p>“No no <em>no</em>. I was just drunk my darling. Drunk and…quite miserable.”</p><p>“How are you doing by the way?”</p><p>He sighs. “She was the love of my life.”</p><p>“People’s loves of their lives only leave by natural causes. Not choice.”</p><p>“Doubtful.”</p><p>“What <em>exactly</em> happened? Last update I got from you was everything was,” and in, what Jaskier can <em>only</em> assume to be her mocking him (absolutely <em>not</em> the time), she says, “Oh dearest Triss, the Countess is an insatiable woman. I have met my match in a partner and I shan’t be wooing anyone else. A woman with a bosom such as hers, and her fiery temper, <em>GADS!</em> Magic.”</p><p>Well, she does do a, somewhat <em>decent</em> performance of him. “Ha ha. Very humorous. May I continue?”</p><p>She nods, gesturing for him to do so.</p><p>“I saw her with another man.”</p><p>“Oh. <em>Jaskier.”</em> Well, at least she’s not mocking him anymore. Though the sheer sympathy in her voice doesn’t make him feel any better.</p><p>“Yes. It was…well, it <em>certainly</em> put the nail in our relationship. If you could even call it that.”</p><p>“I thought you didn’t like commitment.”</p><p>“No. But…well, I also don’t like sharing. It was one of the reasons the Countess and I fit together so well.”</p><p>“Well, truth be told I’m glad you’re out of that. You deserve better than being someone’s side piece.”</p><p>“Perhaps.”</p><p>“Jas…”</p><p>“What if that was<em> it</em> hm? What if…the countess is all I get for love? For romance? She’s a remarkable woman, despite being a <em>she-devil.</em>”</p><p>Triss snorts. Jaskier grins a little.</p><p>“Ah yes. The cloves and hooves really make the whole rich lady attractive right?”</p><p>That gets Jaskier’s smile to grow. “Don’t forget the tail and forked tongue.”</p><p>“Okay. Ew. Gross. No one wants to make out with a lizard’s tongue.”</p><p>“Says you. I for one, know of some unsavory individuals who would happily lick lips with a reptile.”</p><p>“Let me guess Val—”</p><p>
  <em>“Valdo Marx.” </em>
</p><p>“Of course it is.”</p><p>“A slimy little bugger. Do you know he’s parading around Oxenfurt with a hope of becoming a professor there? The <em>insanity! </em>If he becomes a professor I shall give up my music…<em>forever.</em>”</p><p>“No you won’t.”</p><p>“Spoilsport.”</p><p>She chuckles. “See? You’re feeling a bit better already.”</p><p>“Tis true. Nothing perks me up more than witnessing that prick’s demise.”</p><p>“Mhm. Look, why don’t you ask around town about who might’ve gotten you out of the forest? Maybe Greg chased after you.”</p><p>“Ohhhhhh that would be <em>divine. </em>If anyone can get me to forget the Countess, it’s <em>that</em> strapping gentleman.”</p><p>“I’m sure he’d enjoy rescuing you as the damsel.”</p><p>“Stop toying with me. You know my affection for the man is precious.”</p><p>“Then stop imagining impossible things.”</p><p>Jaskier slams his hands to his chest. “You wound me.”</p><p>“Wound you I may,” Triss glances at the clock, “But you have a girl to tutor and I’ve got a shop to run. Scat.”</p><p>“Of course. What would I do without my dearest sorceress to keep me on track?”</p><p>“Get fired.”</p><p>“As if Calanthe doesn’t enjoy me.”</p><p>“She <em>absolutely</em> does not. <em>Go</em> before she puts your head on the chopping block.”</p><p>Jaskier blows a kiss as his fingers wiggle, exiting the shop and onwards to his appointment. </p><p> </p><hr/><p>A quick glance at his watch informs him he’s still got a bit of time before meeting with Cirilla as he walks towards the enormous hill that leads to her home. The journey is a bit of a trek which leads lots of time to think. </p><p>And thinking for Jaskier is never a good thing. Especially if his last conversation centers around <em>captivating</em> individuals. </p><p>Such as a certain bar owner. </p><p>“Hm. Perhaps Greg <em>did </em>rescue me?” he ponders as he walks. The pub is open as he passes by, with the owner standing on the patio, sweeping and Jaskier can’t help but wonder if he <em>was </em>the one to find him in the woods. It’s certainly plausible isn’t it? He kicked him out earlier, knew exactly the state he was in, <em>surely</em> Greg wouldn’t be so cold-hearted to leave a wailing man, deep in the spirits, to his own devices?</p><p>Right?</p><p>“Greg! You whooooo!”</p><p>The man looks up, rolls his eyes and grunts. Clearly displeased with Jaskier’s sudden call for attention, but at least he’s <em>engaging. </em></p><p>Jaskier can work with mildly pissed off.</p><p>“What’d you want?”</p><p>“Hello, you <em>absolute </em>gem of a man. Did you, by chance, on your way home from closing down last night, make a little detour into, say, oh I don’t know, the woods?”</p><p>“Only people with death wishes go in there. You’ve heard the stories.”</p><p>So a <em>no</em> then. Bloody hell, will he <em>never</em> find his dashing rescuer? “Ah. Well. Suppose that answers that then.”</p><p>Gods, these townsfolk and their utterly absurd belief in the falsehoods. It’s just a forest with white trees. <em>Goodness. </em></p><p>“Well, thank you anyway Greg. I do hope you have a splendid afternoon.”</p><p>Jaskier leaves the man’s side, unaware of his shaking head. Fingers tapping on his chin, the musician tries to figure out who, in his little town, would be so <em>kind</em> as to go into the feared woods?</p><p>“No one. Absolutely no one.”</p><p>The only feasible option is Triss, but she’s denied any involvement. And if there is one thing Triss never does, it’s lie.</p><p> As Jaskier’s mind whirls at an inhuman rate, too soon he arrives at a large home, which sits on top of a hill, overlooking the town below.</p><p>A few knocks summons the maid, who curtsies when she sees him and gestures him inside.</p><p>“Good morning Mister Jaskier.”</p><p>“Good morning Eleanor. How’s Ciri today? Awake I hope.”</p><p>“Indeed. She’s in her study awaiting your arrival.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Another curtsy and she’s off, scampering down some hall to do something dull and trivial no doubt. A lovely girl, but a bit of a bore. But Jaskier does enjoy watching her walk away, not that he’d ever tell her that. Goodness Calanthe would have his head if he slept with another one of her staff.</p><p>With <em>that</em> thought stirring him forward, Jaskier makes his way to the study. Inside, Ciri sits at her desk writing something down in her notebook.</p><p>“Jaskier!”</p><p>“Good morning princess.”</p><p>“I told you not to call me that.”</p><p>“And I shan’t when you no longer live in a home bigger than the town square.”</p><p>She pouts to which he grins, knowing that she can’t argue with his logic. She’ll rule over their little settlement soon enough if Calanthe has anything to say about it.</p><p>“Now, did you do your homework from our last session?”</p><p>“I did!”</p><p>“Oh, so that notebook<em> isn’t</em> the blue one with clefs on the front?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>An eyebrow goes up, eyes narrow, arms cross and the pair enter into a standoff. Jaskier, waiting for Ciri to relent and admit she waited till the last minute to complete her work. Ciri, waiting until Jaskier gives in and lets it slide.</p><p>It goes on for about two minutes until Ciri huffs, rolls her eyes, and scowls. “Fine. I didn’t do it.”</p><p>The tension is Jaskier’s shoulders release, causing them to sag in weariness. “Ciri, you must do your homework otherwise we end up redoing the lesson because you didn’t learn.”</p><p>“It’s so <em>boring</em> though. Theory is the worst. I want to just play music.”</p><p>“I know princess.” Jaskier places his hand on her shoulder as her frown continues to grow. “But theory helps make playing <em>easier.</em> It lets you understand the <em>why</em> of music.”</p><p>“The why is <em>stupid.</em>”</p><p>“Perhaps. Or, maybe it is the special nugget to making music the best.”</p><p>It’s completely untrue, but Ciri doesn’t need to know that. She just needs to do her work for once and <em>not</em> complain.</p><p>“I end up getting it wrong though.”</p><p>“Ah. But being incorrect doesn’t always have to be a bad thing. You’re learning, you must allow yourself some grace.”</p><p>Ciri sighs, collapsing onto the piano bench in a huff. “Fine. I <em>guess </em>I can give it another go.”</p><p>“Good. Now, let’s see what you did manage to finish hm?”</p><p>Picking up the notebook, Jaskier flips through the pages to the section where Ciri should’ve done her work. He can see her scribbles across the page, some correct and some not.</p><p>“Well, you did more than I expected you would.”</p><p>“Did I get the ones I did right?”</p><p>“Ah, well, no. But you didn’t do as poorly as last time.”</p><p>
  <em>“Joy.” </em>
</p><p>“Chin up princess. You’ll get the hang of it yet.”</p><p>“I don’t know about that.”</p><p>The girl turns herself to stare out the window, her frame gloomier. Jaskier watches her with his heart going out to her and wishing to wrap her in an embrace. But, Calanthe has rules about external affection, so he decides to do something better.</p><p>Perhaps it is because of his own incident from yesterday or his conversation with Triss, but he feels called to tell her the story of the forest that she currently appears entranced by.</p><p>“Do you know the legend of the woods?”</p><p>“The winter woods has a legend? Is it cursed?”</p><p>Jaskier sits down, patting the spot beside him. "Let me tell you the myth, of the forest that lays beside our little village."</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Once upon a time there lived a maiden, in this very town. She was considered to be the most beautiful entity across all the lands. Some said that she was blessed by Destiny herself, others say she merely fortunate.”</p><p>“Oooo very nice intro.”</p><p>Jaskier snorts but does not let her deter him. “Now, in the town lived a wealthy man, who was a count. He saw her and decided that he must have her.”</p><p>“Oh no!”</p><p>“Are you going to let <em>me</em> tell the story or will you keep interrupting?”</p><p>Ciri mimes zipping her lips.</p><p>“The count brought the woman many things to woo her, from jewels to fine clothing to exotic pets, but none of it seemed to make her want him. So, he went to her father instead.”</p><p>Ciri’s eyes go wide and she bites her lip to abstain from commenting.</p><p>“It should be noted that her father was a <em>greedy</em> man, and he handed his daughter to the count in marriage for his riches. The wedding was planned immediately following the betrothal, despite the maiden’s protest.”</p><p>“So, the night before her wedding, she went into the forest, rumored to be filled with a sinister creature know for slaughtering those that crossed the edge. She did not care for the rumor, too consumed by her sorrow. So, she fled into the woods and wept. As she was weeping, a strange glow emerged from deep inside the woods. She ceased her cries and followed it, coming to a hut with a roaring fire and two individuals. One, an old witch who had lost her sight, and the other, her son, a young, man who was ghastly in appearance.”</p><p>“The witch greeted her and asked her why she cried so loud when no one could hear. The maiden shared her sorrow; how she was engaged to a man who did not love her but only wanted her for her prettiness.”</p><p>“The witch told her that should she marry someone else before the dawn of the next day, the wedding would be called off.”</p><p>“The maiden, relieved to hear of a solution asked the witch how she could thank her for her wisdom.”</p><p>“The witch said she must marry her son and leave the forest. But when her son died, she must return his body to the woods to rest, otherwise she would be cursed.”</p><p>“The maiden looked at the son. She was not interested in marrying someone like him, but she was desperate to escape the clutches of the count. So, she agreed.”</p><p>“The witch married them moments before dawn and the maiden was free to leave the forest with her new spouse. Before she left, the witch reminded her that should her son die, she must bring him back to the forest or suffer the consequences.”</p><p>“So they left. The son, eager to please his new wife and the maiden, happy to be free.”</p><p>“As they entered the town, the count saw her emerge alive with the son, hands together bound by rings. Fury roared through him and he claimed her to be cursed for no one goes into the woods and makes it out alive.”</p><p>“He called off the wedding and banished them from the town, forcing them to live in the woods forever.”</p><p>“The maiden now no longer bound to the count, in an abundance of glee, kisses the son to rejoice. Magic bursts forth from under his skin, illuminating the entire forest in a golden light and moments later, stood a man of pure beauty, handsome enough to rival the maiden’s own splendor.”</p><p>“He tells her he had been cursed by the count’s mage, but by her choosing to marry him over the count, and sealing it with a kiss, she freed him from the curse. The pair then go to live on the edge of the woods, close enough to town to sneak in for supplies but far enough away to not be found.”</p><p>“But the count was not satisfied by the banishment. Humiliated by the maiden choosing someone uglier than himself, he calls for his mage. The mage curses the happy couple, transforming them into creatures, hideous beyond anything you could imagine.”</p><p>Ciri’s eyes widen before she inwardly rages. Jaskier hides a grin as he pictures smoke billowing out from her ears as she attempts to keep her anger in control.</p><p>Jaskier continues, “Now, what the count didn’t know, was the son and the maiden would visit the witch on every full moon. When they do not visit her on the next full moon, she sought them out. She discovers their cursed forms and when she comes before them, they are ravenous. Smelling her beating heart, they lunge forth like wild wolves ready to feast but she seals them inside the forest as she escapes their clutches, so they cannot hurt anyone. Realizing she has now lost her son; she goes forth to find who created the curse and punish them.”</p><p>“The townsfolk tell her that the count makes the decisions and if there is something she has to ask; he will be the one to answer. So she confronts him about the monsters of the woods. But he claims innocence, insisting he played no role and that he has not seen such creatures.”</p><p>“The witch, <em>knowing</em> he’s lying, decides to play into his ego and let his hubris be his downfall. She tells him to leave the creatures inside the woods alone in peace, or she shall reign down hell on his lands.”</p><p>“The count laughs and sends her away but his mage warn him that the creatures are the son and maiden, and the witch is bound to them somehow. By keeping them alive, they risk the town’s safety and with it, the count's reputation."</p><p>"So, twilight falls that day, and the count, who has summoned the townspeople to scour the woods and kill the beasts, begin to stomp towards the edge of the woods. When they arrive, a barrier forces them back, but the mage takes it down quickly. The moment he does, a gust of wind burst out, shivering the townsfolk to their bones. Torches alight, the count urges everyone to go in, but now, his people are getting cold feet.”</p><p>“The mage squeaks out about hearing a sound, and with terrified hearts, everyone looks to the depth of the forest, where growling echoes, getting louder by the moment.”</p><p>“They scramble backwards, the whole lot of them, eager to escape. The count’s ego fails them for despite his words he cannot keep them to fight. For standing at the edge of the forest, emerging from the shadows, were the son and the maiden, now in a monstrous form. The son howls into the air and the couple give chase. Everyone <em>scatters.” </em></p><p>“The mage dies quickly at the hands of the son. But the count, he runs, desperate to evade but the maiden catches him, and tears him apart, limb from limb. But before she can eat him, the witch appears and stops her. She take's the body and hangs what’s left of him on the village’s outskirts, with a sign that reads to not enter the forest, or the monsters will feast on you.”</p><p>“The son and the maiden return to the woods, and the witch seals them inside. Focusing on her chaos, she casts and in a flash, the trees of the woods change. White veins stretch forth and consume the trunks in a winter façade. The air gets colder until all that is left is, what we know today, as the winter woods. The witch did not stay after that. But the locals who discovered the town long after spoke of this legend after seeing the counts body. They did not believe the warning, until they saw dark shadows with long claws that howled at full moons amongst the white trunks. So, they tell children and newcomers about the creatures that lurk in those woods to keep them outside of the woods as the witch's seal does not prevent strangers from entering the forest.”</p><p>Ciri’s mouth drops. “That’s <em>wild.</em> Is it true? Are there actually monsters in the forest? Are they werewolves? They sound like werewolves.”</p><p>Jaskier chuckles, ruffling her hair. “No princess. They are not werewolves. Truth be told, I doubt they actually exist. I think someone might’ve just seen a white wolf and lost their mind.”</p><p>“Well, I’d like to know if the myth is true or not.”</p><p>He wouldn’t mind knowing himself. What if…</p><p><em>No. </em>That’s a silly idea.</p><p>But…</p><p>What if…</p><p>A lightbulb goes off.</p><p>What if his guardian angel<em> lives in the woods? </em></p><p>Jaskier’s eyes go wide on the idea. It’s…feasible. In fact, it’s quite possibly the only thing that makes <em>sense.</em> No one in town would dare enter due to the legend. Triss didn’t save him nor Greg.</p><p>So something or someone in the woods must have.</p><p>By <em>gods!</em> How did he not realize it before? “<em>You’re an absolute idiot Jas.” </em>His conscious sounds like Triss. He can practically hear her roll those green irises for him not cluing in sooner.</p><p>“Jaskier? Are you alright?”</p><p>“Hm? Oh. Of course princess. Absolutely <em>divine.</em> Now, shall we continue on with your lessons? We’ve still got math and language to go through.”</p><p>Ciri groans.</p><p>As they resume their lesson, the blonde girl more enthused about learning thanks to the story, Jaskier begins to strategize a plan.</p><p>He’s going to go back into the woods and find the thing or person (<em>gods </em>he hopes it’s a person, preferably a handsome woodcutter with glorious muscles and a buttocks you could bounce a coin off of but <em>anywho</em>)…</p><p>Tomorrow.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p>Outfit Inspiration: </p><p> </p><p>Jaskier: </p><p>
  
</p><p>Triss: </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Greg: </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Ciri: </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Goal is to have Chapter 3 sometime out next week. </p><p>I know I know. No Geralt in this chapter. But never fear folks! He's coming in two chapters. </p><p>When I say slow burn I mean SLOW BURN. </p><p>(Does it count if one of the parties isn't present for a slow burn? Imma say yes.). </p><p>See y'all in a week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Edge of the Woods</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apologies about the late chapter! I started playing Spiritfarer and I loveeeeee it. </p><p>Anywho. Here's chapter 3 folks! Enjoy lovelies.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Winter Woods</p><p>Chapter 3</p><p>The Edge of the Woods</p><p>
  <em>“A border--the perimeter of a single massive or stretched-out use of territory--forms the edge of an area of 'ordinary' city. Often borders are thought of as passive objects, or matter-of-factly just as edges. However, a border exerts an active influence.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>― Jane Jacobs, The Death and Life of Great American Cities</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jaskier stares down the frozen forest with sharp eyes from his bedroom window as he paces around the room. He’s not looking for anything in particular, merely trying to gauge whether or not going into the woods is <em>actually </em>worth it.</p><p>“Of course it is.”</p><p>He is, positively, <em>absolutely</em>, confident that the person who saved him is <em>in</em> there. He just has to <em>find</em> them. Though how he’ll do that is still something of a concern. While he could just waltz in there, even <em>he</em> can see it isn’t the brightest idea. He could go to Triss, but he also doesn’t want to witness her disapproval and hear the long lecture she’ll give about what a bad idea it is.</p><p>But, she’s also the only one who will help him, albeit reluctantly. And he doesn’t trust anyone more than her. Besides, it’ll only be for one day. What’s the worst that could happen?</p><p>“Gah!” Jaskier grips his hair. “I’m going in circles. Just talk to the bloody woman and get it over with. It will be <em>fine.</em> You are a full-fledged adult. She can’t stop you.”</p><p>Well, she <em>could,</em> seeing as she’s a fairly powerful sorceress but she wouldn’t <em>actually</em> use her chaos to hurt him. Right?</p><p>Probably.</p><p>Maybe.</p><p>Jaskier collapses onto his bed to cease his pacing. Triss will have a say in him entering the forest but he won’t be going in at night. He had wrapped up Ciri’s lessons a few hours ago so it’s still daytime. He can just pop into the forest in the evening, take a quick look around, and then pop right back out.</p><p>He won’t linger about like last time and he won’t be intoxicated either. That’s surely to help.</p><p>“Right. Well. Best be off then.”</p><p>He grabs his knapsack and shoves some resources in there; a bottle of water, a flashlight, mitts, and some granola bars in case he gets a little snacky. Throwing onto his shoulder he’s off to Triss’s shop to let her know what he’s doing in case, you know, it <em>backfires</em> (which it tends to do but he need not admit that to her).</p><p>Jaskier is out the door with his mind made up, on his way to her little store, passing by the usual company in the town’s square. Not much seems to be going on today which means it may be a little bit more difficult to slip away unnoticed, but then again, no one wanders near the edge of the woods, so he should be fine.</p><p>He gets to the front door quickly where a wooden sign hangs on the glass with the word, "<em>Welcome!</em>" scrawled across in white paint. The bell rings as he opens Triss’s front door and he sees the redhead immediately. She's bent over, rustling through some crate, murmuring to herself. She shoots up upon the bell's sound and her green eyes land on him with a questioning brow. “Jaskier. I just saw you this morning! What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I’m going into the woods.”</p><p>Might as well rip the band aid off. No point in dallying.</p><p>
  <em>“What?”</em>
</p><p>“I firmly believe my rescuer is in there. So, I’m going to go find them.”</p><p>“You <em>can’t</em> be serious.”</p><p>Jaskier has never been more serious in his life. “I am, irrevocably, so.”</p><p>He can see the gears turning in her head as she stares him down. She’s withholding (thank <em>god.</em> He really did not want to waste any time attempting to convince her of this).</p><p>“I can’t convince you otherwise, can I? You’re dead set on this.”</p><p>“I am.”</p><p>She sighs, all fight draining out. “Very well, follow me then. I need to give you something.”</p><p>He sways through the splayed items all around her store, tracing every footstep with his own. She leads him to her apartment above, where inside lays cottage core. It’s cozy, warmed by the fire and a welcoming sight.</p><p>“I forgot how lovely your home is.”</p><p>“Mhm. Sit.”</p><p>All business then. He gingerly places himself in one of the large chairs, sinking into its cushions. A blissful sigh erupts as his eyes flutter shut. Maybe he’ll take a little nap before perusing into the woods.</p><p>“JASKIER.”</p><p>Or not.</p><p>“Hm? Yes darling?”</p><p>“Do you <em>want</em> to me to murder you? Wake up. You can’t go into the forest at night and you don’t have a lot of daytime left.”</p><p>“Too true.” He pushes himself up and blearily forces his eyes awake. He turns to face her, discovering some sort of charm in her hand.</p><p>“Take this.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>A closer look shows him a black stone connected to a chain.</p><p>“It’s black tourmaline. There’s chaos infused into it so it should protect you from any sort of danger. But, knowing your luck, you’ll be perfectly fine.”</p><p>“You think this is a terrible idea.”</p><p>“<em>Of course</em> I do. But when you’re set on something, <em>you</em> get tunnel vision. No one can pull you out except you. Best to protect you as well as I can.”</p><p>“Thank you Triss.” He embraces her, taking in her herbal scent of sage and rosemary before letting her go.</p><p>“Be careful. <em>Please</em>.”</p><p>“When am I not?”</p><p>A droll look is his only answer.</p><p>“Fine. I’ll be careful.”</p><p>And with that, he’s leaves, off to the forest.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>The edge of the woods looms before him as he stands on its border, looking for a way inside. There are not any clear entrances that he can see. It appears sight is not the way forward.</p><p>Jaskier places his hand to his nose, closes his eyes, and attempts to listen for some sort of sign to the best way to go inside. He could just waltz in, but he owes it to Triss to not just jump in as he normally does.</p><p>He needs to be smart about this.</p><p>One of the things his mother has always commented on was his hearing, and how <em>exceptional</em> it was compared to others. It’s what makes him such an excellent musician.</p><p>So, in the silence of the evening, he listens for the way inside. He hears the wind gently weave through the trees, insects buzz as they go about their duties, hushed whispers from the leaves as they rustle amongst each other, and then a <em>whoosh.</em></p><p>An entrance.</p><p>Blue eyes dart to the side, spotting a poorly marked entrance with flattened flora from steps taken. Dashing over, Jaskier peers inside. It’s definitely a route, but it’s poorly made and unclear about where it leads to.</p><p>It’ll have to do.</p><p>And so, he steps over the edge, into the Winter Woods. A blast of wind greets him, it's chill familiar as it settles inside his bones. He takes out his mitts and puts them on, blowing into them to help with warmth.</p><p>“Stay on the path, stay on the path.” He mutters to himself as he maneuvers over fallen branches, logs, and rocks. A quick cast to the sun shows dusk beginning to settle in. He won’t have long then.</p><p>The further he goes in the more light he loses for the trees become denser, blocking out the waning sun from all directions. He grips the charm around his neck tightly, feeling the chaos beat out of it to the rhythm of his heart. It’s comforting and soothes away the anxiety in him. Bless Triss for the little trinket.</p><p>“I wonder where that clearing is.” But, of course, there is nothing to hear him or indicate the direction he should go. The path never splits but instead, fades the longer it goes. It seems those who came before him veered off at some point, whether out of curiosity or fear, he does not know.</p><p>Jaskier, <em>wisely, </em>decides he’ll stay on the path until, which he can only assume, it disappears at some point. And when that happens, he’ll turn around and go back.</p><p>Simple enough.</p><p>“Onward then.”</p><p>Only the wind hears his remarks.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>It’s been a few hours according to his watch since he entered the woods. His flashlight is out, illuminating the path since the sun is no longer aiding him. The forest has gotten colder with each step and still, there is no sign of anyone who may live here.</p><p>Jaskier bites his lip and frowns. Absolutely unhelpful this whole thing has been.</p><p>Triss is going to have a good laugh at him.</p><p>He pauses and calms himself, focusing on his sense of hearing to catch something that his eyes may be missing. A calm breath lets itself loose, the sharpness of the forest coming into focus.</p><p>And that’s when he hears it. A trickling of a stream, somewhere to the right of him.</p><p>Off the path.</p><p>He shines his light to where the sound comes from but Jaskier only sees more trees. “I need to go off course.” He nibbles on his thumbnail, debating straying from his original plan or allowing his curiosity and desperation (because really, what else is it at this point?) for finding someone and simply thanking them.</p><p>“A lot of work for a mere thank you. They ought to be<em> grateful.</em>” Maybe they’ll swoon. That would be nice.</p><p>Jaskier steps off the path, towards the sound of running water. The forest is definitely thicker at this point and far more ominous than earlier. He clutches the charm tighter.</p><p>The trickling from earlier transforms into a rushing sound, telling Jaskier that it isn’t a stream he’s looking for, but a river.</p><p>And soon enough he stumbles out of the woods into an eerily similar clearing from his drunken splendor. Though this time, there is a river that runs across it and disappears somewhere into the forest.</p><p>Jaskier approaches the body of water, taking a peek into it to see if any dangers are lurking about.</p><p>“Fascinating.” It’s quite deep for he can’t see the bottom as he shines his light into it. Nothing appears out of the ordinary in the clearing, so he tucks his flashlight away and scoops some water, splashing it onto his face.</p><p>He sighs pleasantly. “Refreshing.” The musician meanders on back away from the river, staring upwards. “Fuck.”</p><p>The sun is long gone and the moon now replacing it. How long was he in the forest for? Jaskier checks his watch and groans. “You <em>stupid</em> thing. You were working perfectly fine when we left.”</p><p>The hands haven’t changed from when he last checked it. “Well, best that back on the path then.”</p><p>Except, as Jaskier spins around, he realizes he has<em> no idea where he came from. </em>“Well. This certainly isn’t good.”</p><p>Right as Jaskier goes to take a step, something wet drops on his head. He frowns, checking his hair only to see some sort of clear ooze sticking to his hand. “Wha—”</p><p>He turns and jumps backward, eyes wide in horror.</p><p>“That is <em>definitely</em> not good.”</p><p>A grotesque humanoid stands before him. Fins stick spindly on its arms and legs with gnarled teeth that stick outwards. It has talons for nails and reeks of dead fish. What terrifies him the most, are the milky eyes bearing no pupil or inclination of rational thought.</p><p>Jaskier, is well and truly fucked. And<em> not</em> in the good way.</p><p>So, he does the only thing he can do.</p><p>He screams bloody murder.</p><p>
  <strong>“HELLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPPP.” </strong>
</p><p>The creature, evidently displeased that it’s prey is being loud and obnoxious, lunges for the musician who, thankfully, is quick on his feet and leaps out of the way. He dashes for the edge of the woods, but monster is faster, sliding into his way to escape. So he reroutes, running to the river again and thinking, <em>“I can jump this.” </em></p><p>He goes to leap over the river but miscalculates, instead slamming onto the ground as one-foot lands on grass, the other in the water. He grips the dirt and attempts to pull himself forward but stills when he feels bony fingers wrap around the ankle that is submerged. A slow turn of the head reveals a second monster, similar to the first, beginning to come out from the waves.</p><p>“Absolutely <em>not.</em>”</p><p>Jaskier slams his other foot into the creature’s fast and it lets out a screech of pain, letting him go to check it’s own injuries. He scrambles backwards, clutching the charm Triss gave him and praying for some sort of salvation, because this. <em>This </em>will be the end of him.</p><p>The creatures seem to shake off their stupor, going back to advancing on Jaskier who struggles to his feet, weary from the exertion of energy and desperate to find some sort of getaway.</p><p>As the monsters slowly approach, sensing his every movement, a pulse of chaos shoots forth from the charm, into the woods. It doesn’t affect the creatures who just keep their bodies towards him.</p><p>“Useless thing.” Jaskier mutters to the charm. Triss said it was supposed to <em>protect</em> him and clearly whatever it did is <em>absolutely</em> ineffective as the two monsters are very much still staring at him like he’s some delicious snack (which he <em>is </em>but not in the way they want him to be).</p><p>Maybe there’s something he can grab and use as a bat. Jaskier glances around, noting a branch thick enough to possibly do some damage.</p><p>He counts down in his head. Neither monster is moving, both making excellent statues though Jaskier knows it’s only because he’s alert to their presence. As soon as he turns his back or moves, they’re going to move.</p><p>He’s got one shot at this.</p><p>
  <em>Five.</em>
</p><p>Both monsters still frozen. <em>Gods</em> he wishes they had pupils so he could see where the fuck they were looking.</p><p>
  <em>Four. </em>
</p><p>He strains his ears to tell if he can pick up any other possible threats lurking about. Thankfully, the only things he hears is the river and the wind.</p><p>
  <em>Three.</em>
</p><p>He thinks he may have seen a twitch in the creature still in the water, half submerged and half not, but it’s over too quickly to tell.</p><p>
  <em>Two.</em>
</p><p>Oh gods.</p><p>
  <em>One. </em>
</p><p>He thrusts his body towards the log and the creatures immediately move into action. He manages to grab the branch and swings it wildly but one of the monsters is on him, grabbing the branch right as he turns it. Jaskier, despite being a rather slim individual, has a surprising strength, but the monster is stronger.</p><p>Instead of taking the weapon from him, the creature swings both the branch and Jaskier away from the edge of woods back to the middle of the clearing. It overshoots it with Jaskier slamming into mound of rocks. He feels his shoulder shatter, making him <em>scream </em>in agony.</p><p>Delirious from the pain and most likely with a concussion, Jaskier’s vision begins to go in and out. He begins to feel faint and despair settles in.</p><p>This is it.</p><p>This is how he dies.</p><p>Black spots sprinkle to the edge of his vision and a giant swinging a sword slashes away the monsters.</p><p>Wait.</p><p>
  <em>What? </em>
</p><p>Jaskier blinks furiously (or as furiously as one can on the brink of consciousness). At first, he’s quite confident he’s imagining the giant tearing off limbs from the monster.</p><p>Except…</p><p>There’s something…familiar about this man. As if Jaskier had met him before perhaps.</p><p>
  <em>Wait a minute…</em>
</p><p>Jaskier’s vision darkens for a moment as he struggles to breathe, clutching his shoulder that blares it’s pain before his sight comes back. When it does, kneeling before him is, quite possibly, the most<em> beautiful</em> person Jaskier has ever seen.</p><p>“Come to rescue me my handsome prince?” he slurs out (though to Jaskier’s muddled mind, the line is <em>quite</em> eloquent).</p><p>The man says nothing, only looking at Jaskier with glittering onyx eyes, ashy skin, hair of glowing moonlight and an unreadable expression.</p><p>And then Jaskier promptly passes out.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jaskier comes to in the early hours of the next day. He groans, a throbbing pain in his shoulder and head. He clutches his head, only to find that bandages have been wrapped around it.</p><p>He shoots upward, grimacing from the injuries.</p><p>He’s back in his bedroom.</p><p>“Damnit.”</p><p>The previous venture is foggy, for all Jaskier can remember is a faint image of someone with incredibly pale skin and obsidian eyes.</p><p>“My saviour.”</p><p>He swings himself out of bed, taking his sweet time to not further aggravate his injuries. The man who saved his life (again) must’ve left something just like last time.</p><p>The musician hobbles over to his desk, where, once more, lies a note and on top of it, Triss’s charm.</p><p>One hand picks up the charm and holds it to the dawning sunlight before reading the note.</p><p>
  <em>“Do not enter the forest again. I won’t save you a third time.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I highly doubt it.”</p><p>No one would waste their efforts saving someone twice if not to continue doing so. The note is a lesser thought though, for Jaskier realizes that the man must have found him from Triss’s charm.</p><p>Which means she knows the man in the woods.</p><p>“Looks like Triss and I are about to have quite the chat aren’t we?”</p><p>The charm, of course, doesn’t react. Jaskier sighs, placing it on his desk and going to his wardrobe to change. He’ll have Triss look over his injuries and will willingly endure her clucking to bring up the fact that she <em>omitted that she knows the person who saved him. </em></p><p>Then he’ll be doing the clucking.</p><p>Once dressed, Jaskier pockets the charm and note, grabs his bag for work and leaves his home, determined to learn more about the mysterious man who keeps saving him.</p><p>His eyes give one last cast to the border of the forest and the town as he speaks., “Mark my words guardian angel. I <em>will </em>find you.”</p><p>He turns his back to the woods and begins to make his way to Triss’s shop but fails to notice the hooded figure standing near the edge, watching him walk away once more.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Outfit Inspiration: </p><p>Jaskier:</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Triss: </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Geralt: </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Goal is to have chapter 4 out sometime next week. Hope the end of 2020 was better than the shitshow of a year it was. May 2021 be better (please). </p><p>See you all next week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Life In The Woods</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello lovelies! </p><p>I am so sorry this chapter is a day late! Last week was crazy! But it is here so enjoy reading GERALT'S POV. Yes! We finally get to see what our favourite witcher has been up to the past few days while Jaskier did his usual shenanigans. </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Winter Woods</p><p>Chapter 4</p><p>Life In The Woods</p><p>
  <em>“The world is dark and quiet, except for the soft rustling of leaves and the cry of a wolf in the distance.”<br/>― <strong>Jen Calonita </strong></em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Geralt has never been one for company.</p><p>Humans, to him, are annoying gnats that serve no purpose other than to judge one another, criticize everything they encounter, and murder they ones they label as loved.</p><p>No matter what one of them does for someone else, they are never satisfied.</p><p>So he lives his life in the woods, away from the loud, obnoxious noises of the townsfolk and the bustling inside their little village. He has his garden to grow food, meat he can hunt, a cabin that provides shelter from the wind and cold, and Roach, the stray cat who has been his companion for as long as he can remember.</p><p>Occasionally, he may stray near the border of the town and dip in quietly to grab things he cannot make himself or Triss will make a visit, leaving medical supplies so he can patch himself up after a nasty fight with some of the crueler creatures that live amongst the trees.</p><p>But truthfully, he just <em>doesn’t</em> like people. He knows, from his strange appearance, that if he were to enter into the town and act normal, they would chase him right out.</p><p>It’s happened before. Doesn’t matter how much time passes, humanity never changes for the better.</p><p>
  <em>“Mew.” </em>
</p><p>“Not now Roach.”</p><p>Roach stretches herself, giving Geralt a glare for refusing to feed her despite her food bowl being only <em>half empty</em>. The man only responds in kind, sighing as the cat flicks her tail and walks into a different room.</p><p>She’s as particular as he is. Which is something he enjoys about her very much.</p><p>Once Roach has left the room, Geralt resumes his task of wiping his blades, a chore he finds soothing. Vesemir was the one who showed him how to do the methodical routine and why it was so important. It’s one of the few things he can remember about his mentor.</p><p>The melancholy sinks in as <em>that </em>thought stirs in Geralt’s mind as he reminisces out the man who was practically his father. The cloth stops on the sword, his shoulders sag and the moment settles itself on his shoulders.</p><p>Geralt remembers his family, a group of misfits strung together by unfortunate circumstances. He remembers smelling sulfur, watching the colour of emerald flicker across his vision as the place he knew as home vanished before him. He squeezes his eyes, <em>forcing</em> the memory to dissipate. It does and he breathes out relief.</p><p>He fucking <em>hates</em> it when this shit happens. He needs to kill something.</p><p>“Fuck this.”</p><p>He takes the sword now freshly polished and shoves it in its sheath, throwing his hair up into a ponytail and then going to his closet to strap on his armour. Once it’s fitted, Geralt goes into the kitchen, throwing open a cabinet and grabbing some potions in case he needs them. The potions get slotted into the pack wrapped around his shoulder along with some knives and brass knuckles in case he’s in a scramble.</p><p>Always better safe than sorry.</p><p>He grabs some food for Roach and refills her bowl even though he shouldn’t, but he isn’t sure when he’ll be back.</p><p>She pokes her head out from his room, ears flickering from the sound of kibble clinking on metal. A satisfied purr erupts from her frame and her head strokes against Geralt’s leg. He pets her once and then heads out the door.</p><p>“Hm.” It’s night. He didn’t even realize he had spent all his time indoors today. He’ll have to make it up tomorrow. But, onto his purpose.</p><p>Killing monsters.</p><p>He trudges forward into the depth of the woods, weaving silently through the trunks. Every once in a while, Geralt pauses, listening to his surroundings to see if anything lurks nearby. Nothing has crossed his path except squirrels and rabbits.</p><p>His moves on. No big game comes his way or anything that would be a threat. The night air begins dropping its temperature the darker it gets. The moon disappears amongst the top of the trees, cloaking everything in darkness. Geralt opens his bag, grabs a green vial and chugs the contents. The cat potion shoots through his body causing his eyes to spark light into the darkness.</p><p>At least now sight isn’t an issue.</p><p>So, Geralt continues on.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>After hunting for a few hours, Geralt stops by a stream. He cups his hands and sips the dripping liquid before splashing the rest onto his face.  He huffs, the frigid air encompassing his breath before him as droplets trickle down. It looks like he’ll be going home empty handed.</p><p>And he had <em>really</em> wanted to kill something too.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>Reluctantly, Geralt resigns himself to a sleep of plagued nightmares from that night since he isn’t able to get his frustration out on something else. He could hit a tree, but it wouldn’t be as satisfying.</p><p>Fucking hell.</p><p>He gets up to make his way home but pauses when he hears something soft.</p><p>
  <em>“She was supposed to be the love of my life. So, dear woods, just a few minutes of unbothered rest. That’s all I need.” </em>
</p><p>Geralt whips around to the faint voice that drifts into his ears. Glowing eyes dart through the trees. Is someone in the forest?</p><p>A heartbeat picks up as he strains his listening to figure out where the fuck this person is. Humans can’t survive in the woods this late at night. Their hearts will pass out. And he can hear this person’s heart fading. Not to mention all the creatures looking for a fresh piece of meat.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck. </em>
</p><p>He dashes into the trees, picking up his pace to get to the human before anything else does. He slides into a clearing similar to the one he had been in and sees a body, slumped up against a thick trunk, skin far paler than it should be, and eyes shut.</p><p>As Geralt gets closer to the human, swearing under his breath about the <em>idiocy</em> of their race, he freezes.</p><p>He <em>knows</em> this human.</p><p>Well. Doesn’t know so much as has<em> seen. </em></p><p>The town troubadour. Always singing obnoxiously (though his voice is, which Geralt <em>hates</em> admitting, <em>is</em> rather nice) and fluttering around as if he was a dancer. He irked Geralt, every time he got near the border and could see the buffoon.</p><p>Though he could never pin down the reason <em>why. </em></p><p>And now, said idiot is here before him. A measly human in a forest that will <em>surely </em>kill him.</p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>Geralt kneels and scoops him up but staggers back as a strong smell smacks his nose. At first, it’s alcohol and the man reeks of it. But through the heavy stench of liquor, sandalwood and mint comes forth. Peering down, Geralt realizes the comforting smell is coming from the man in his arms. He’s also light despite the firm muscles Geralt feels underneath his fingers.</p><p>It’s…nice.</p><p>A thought Geralt immediately dismisses. Because <em>fuck that. </em></p><p>“You’re a pain in the ass.” he mutters. The man just sighs blissfully and snuggles in the embrace, causing an eyeroll.</p><p>Time to get out of the forest.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Geralt follows the scent of sandalwood and mint through the many trees which leads him to a house on the outskirts of the town, near the edge of the woods. Shrubbery sits around a white picketed fence that’s falling apart, while paint peels off of the walls of the building. It’s unkempt, which makes Geralt think this human doesn’t spend a lot of time here.</p><p>Unsurprising.</p><p>He goes up to the door, realizing that he doesn’t actually have a way in. Unless…</p><p>Shifting the man in his arms, Geralt grabs the handles and turns it. The door opens.</p><p>“Of course.” he frustratingly mutters. The idiot <em>would</em> have the door unlocked. He sighs, nudging the door open with his boot and gets <em>flooded</em> with the man’s scent. His nose scrunches.</p><p>He goes upstairs, finding the bedroom rather quickly and lays the human down on the sheets. He watches as this stranger sighs happily, snuggling himself into his bed.</p><p>Geralt simply observes him, taking the length of his form (he might almost be as tall as him) all in. He’s never been this close to a human before. Not in a long time. This one is…<em>something. </em></p><p>The sun begins to peek itself on the horizon though night still reigns supreme. Geralt, noticing there’s a desk, grabs a pen and scrawls a message on a scrap piece of paper for the current sleeper to find in the morning.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>“Do not enter the woods again.”</em> </strong>
</p><p>There. Hopefully he’ll heed the warning. Though Geralt doubts it. The human doesn’t seem to possess great self-preservation if he went into the woods, at night, <em>drunk.</em></p><p>Geralt gives him a lookover one more time before leaving the house and disappearing into the woods.</p><p>Hopefully, he won’t have to see anymore humans for a long time.</p><p>They’re always an unnecessary handful.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next day finds Geralt in his garden. Weeds have begun to sprout amongst the vegetables so he’s having to dig them out. It’s grueling work but always satisfying once done.</p><p>Roach is laying on a chair, stretched out in the glimmer of the sun’s rays that’s encasing the furniture. She’s purring pleasantly, content to bask in the rare warmth.</p><p>Geralt grunts as he rips out another weed, tossing it into the growing pile. He reforms the dirt to allow for the vegetables to grow more efficiently with his hands, evening out the ground. The rough climate in the forest makes it hard enough to get his garden to thrive, so he does what he can to help it along.</p><p>He gets lost in the work and misses the footsteps that approach his cabin. “Geralt!” Triss appears with her rucksack filled to the brim and a bright smile on her face.</p><p>“Triss.”</p><p>“Working on the garden?”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“Eloquent as ever. I’ll just head in and you can join me when you’re ready.”</p><p>She goes inside the cabin, Roach hopping off the chair and chasing after her, probably eager for some treats. Geralt watches his companion dash off after the redhead. He wonders if Roach prefers Triss over him. Probably, since she feeds her little snacks that cats should definitely <em>not</em> ingest and he keeps her on a rather strict diet.</p><p>It’s for her health. So she can live longer. And so he won’t be alone anytime soon.</p><p>Shaking off <em>that </em>the rising despondency, Geralt finishes his current task, knowing Triss can’t wait forever. He wipes the dirt on his jeans when done and makes his way inside where the redhead is all set up.</p><p>“Alright. You know the drill. Shirt off.”</p><p>“Yeah. Let me wash up first.”</p><p>He disappears into his bathroom and washes his hands, then face and then to the bedroom to throw off the dirty clothes into the hamper and wear something cleaner.</p><p>“Okay. Up on the table please.”</p><p>Geralt does as Triss asks and shivers as she rubs a cool gel onto his chest. “Relax you big baby. You’ve done this a millions times.”</p><p>“Still uncomfortable.”</p><p>“Well, that’s true I guess.”</p><p>She steps back and waves her fingers, brow furrowed as she reads what the chaos tells her about his health. “No sort of magical curses on you nor any ailments. Have you been feeling any strange symptoms?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Good. I’ll restock your medical supplies before I leave so you’re good to go. Do you need any ingredients for your potions?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Great. I’m going to check the blood now. Arm please.”</p><p>He extends his arm to her to which Triss sticks a syringe in and drags out the red liquid. She squeezes it into an open container and then mutters some words over it. She’s very methodical with her checkups and hardly ever wastes time with chitchat as she works.</p><p>Apparently, today is different.</p><p>“Geralt. I do have something to ask of you.”</p><p>“What?” he says as he puts his shirt back on and she scans the blood with some sort of device.</p><p>“Last night. Did you rescue a human in the woods?”</p><p>Fuck. How does she know that? “I did. Some idiot wandered inside, drunk off his ass.”</p><p>She sighs. “I had a feeling it was you. That was Jaskier. He’s…a little bit broken-hearted. I think due to the recent breakup, he’s obsessing a bit. And, well, you’ve become his new fixation.”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“He’s set on finding you. I told him not to, but that man never listens to reason. Keep an eye out tonight. I have a feeling he’ll be coming back in.”</p><p>“Why the <em>fuck </em>would he do that?”</p><p>“Because he’s a lovelorn idiot who has no self-preservation and acts purely on whims.”</p><p>“Sounds dumb.”</p><p>Triss lets go of a deep breath. “Yes. But he <em>does</em> give you the world when he’s not traipsing off somewhere. As stupid he can be, he’s one of the good ones. A rare bird.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t really think much of what Triss said about her…friend? Or whatever Jaskier (who the fuck names their kid that?) is to her. He’ll just throw the man out of the forest again. Maybe tie him to a chair in his house so he won’t escape.</p><p>“Okay. Blood is clean. You’re good to go. Need anything else?”</p><p>“Just the usual.”</p><p>“Great. I’ll be back near the end of the week with your groceries. And again, please watch out for Jaskier. And don’t be mean like you were in that note.”</p><p>Fucking hell. The man can’t keep his trap shut, can he?</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“Alright. I’m off.”</p><p>“Thanks Triss.”</p><p>“No problem big guy. See you at the end of the week!”</p><p>She leaves and he waves her off, watching her figure retreat into the woods and vanish. Geralt runs a hand through his hair, groaning at the thought of having to do a patrol tonight because some idiot wants to find him. No one ever willingly looks for someone the likes of him. Usually they’re looking for monsters.</p><p>A strange fluttery feeling bursts forth in his chest and he places a hand on it to calm down. Weird. Maybe Triss missed something in her check. Unlikely though. She’s very thorough.</p><p>“Hm.” He’ll push the feeling down and focus instead on getting some meditation done before he goes out tonight.</p><p>Jaskier should’ve heeded his fucking warning.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>A wolf howls somewhere in the woods, rousing Geralt from his introspective state. Roach is near the unlit fireplace, glaring at him for the lack of warmth in the cabin. Rolling his neck to work out the stiff joints, Geralt does as she asks, lighting a fire, before going to grab his equipment and venture off into the woods.</p><p>Finding Jaskier shouldn’t be too hard now that Geralt knows the man’s scent. Sandalwood and mint. Surprisingly pleasant to his sensitive nose, though the man himself <em>isn’t. </em></p><p>He really hopes he didn’t come in the woods. He does not want to get near the town again. What did he do to deserve this unsolicited lack of peace?</p><p>“Fuck if I know."</p><p>Geralt straps all the proper equipment on, sheaths the weapons and heads outside, formulating the usual routes in his mind that monsters take. He’ll start north and work his way around the circumference of the forest, visiting some of the more populated clearings that creatures like to lurk in. If those areas are clear, Jaskier probably didn’t come. If they aren’t and the smell of human lingers about, he’ll do what he does best.</p><p>Kill the monsters.</p><p>The door shuts soundly behind him as he marches forth. The forest seems particularly ominous tonight but Geralt heeds it no mind. He simply prowls, intent on doing his patrol so he doesn’t miss anything.</p><p>Like a wandering human with horrible intentions.</p><p>He moves through the trees, stopping every once in a while to sniff the air for any whiff of sandalwood and mint (nothing yet which is a good sign). The woods have no sound in them except for the usual rush of wind and occasional squeak from a rodent.</p><p>“Looks like he didn’t come.”</p><p>Geralt feels relief at that. While there is still more to patrol, there is nothing amiss in the forest and no indication of anyone entering.</p><p>A smaller part of him though is almost disappointed.</p><p>He must be sleep deprived.</p><p>Going forward to a different section of the woods shows no trace of a human. It’s clear. Only three more sections to go and then he’ll call it a night.</p><p>And that’s when a stream of pure chaos pulses through the woods and smacks him straight in the chest.</p><p>Triss’s charm. But she wouldn’t come in here at night which means she must’ve given it to her friend.</p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>Geralt runs towards the direction the chaos came from. As he runs, he chugs a few potions back and begins to feel it’s effects take place. His eyes darken and sharpen, his skin drops it pigment as the world comes into focus much more clearer and he bursts forth into a clearing only to see a drowner fling the human into a tree and the other watch.</p><p>And Geralt sees <em>red. </em></p><p>He swings his sword straight for the drowner that threw Jaskier and slices it right through. He can’t pay it any mind though as the second one lunges for him. He dodges, grabbing it’s arm to bring it closer to his weapon but it screeches, reacting to his grip. Teeth clash as they attempt to bite his arm but Geralt let’s go, managing to roll to the side.</p><p>Another loud screech is heard as spit flies from the drowners mouth. Geralt grimaces before rushing forward. He jumps into the air and swings. A resounding squelch is heard, from the sword piercing into the creature’s shoulder. Geralt piggybacks on it, forcing it to it’s knees from his weight and he drags the sword through the thick skin, gritting as the drowner flails underneath him to get him off.</p><p>Once the sword is free, there is nothing but silence. Geralt pants heavily as he regains his breath, doing a quick count of situation. Two dead drowners and one injured human. He drops the sword, moving quickly and kneeling before Jaskier.</p><p>His shoulder has a gaping wound in it which means his back is going to be heavily bruised from slamming into the tree and possibly his neck. Geralt places to fingers on the man’s wrist (a dainty thing) and thank god, feels a faint pulse.</p><p>He’s alive.</p><p>“Caume to ressssscoo meh ma hanthdsume pr—rink?”</p><p>Geralt’s eyes shoot to Jaskier and he catches the glimpse of two pretty blues. The trees part above them, as if beckoned by the moon, and Jaskier’s figure is encased in it’s light.</p><p>He’s…Geralt gulps. He’s <em>stunning.</em> And the words slurred out of the musician throw him. But he can’t focus on that now. He needs to get him bandaged up and back in his bed.</p><p>Thankfully, Geralt had some emergency supplies in his pack  (in case he ever had to fix himself up after a battle). He uses the gauze and tensor bandage to block the bleeding from the wound on the shoulder. He scoots a now<em> very</em> unconscious human forward and runs his fingers down the spine to see if anything has broken.</p><p>Jaskier feels a bit frail under the touch. Almost as if he hasn’t been eating much. Thankfully though, the spine seems still intact.</p><p>Humans really are fragile little things.</p><p>Geralt shakes away his train of thought and resume check the body for any other injuries. Luckily for Jaskier, the shoulder seems to be the only injury. Gently, Geralt picks him up and begins to make his way back to the town. He could deal with the drowners now, but there will be plenty of other animals happy to find a free meal.</p><p>The human in his arms needs all his attention right now.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>The journey back to Jaskier’s home doesn’t take as long as one would expect. Maybe it’s because Geralt has been here before, memorizing the zigs and zags of the route or perhaps because his focus is on Jaskier’s breathing, to make sure he remains alive.</p><p>The house is once again unlocked (Geralt might need to make him a note to remember but it has been helpful to not have to bust the door down) and with tender care and to not jostle the injury, Geralt lays him down on his bed.</p><p>He takes a look around the room. He frowns, noticing that Jaskier doesn’t have any sort of photos or mementos about. In fact, it’s quite bare except for the desk, a bookshelf and a guitar case in the corner.</p><p>It makes Geralt wonder if, like him, Jaskier is just as alone.</p><p>Except Geralt <em>likes</em> being alone. He doesn’t need companionship. He's got Roach, who is enough social interaction. And then there’s Triss. He doesn’t need anymore than that.</p><p>Jaskier though, he seems like someone who <em>thrives</em> off of people. Someone who needs to be the center of attention.</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>Geralt shrugs, figuring it isn’t any of his business. Furthermore, curiosity never does him any favours so it's best to drop it. He leaves another note on the desk, hoping it’ll stick but knowing it probably won’t, and exits the house, going back to the forest.</p><p>The route home is uneventful and for that, Geralt is grateful. His potions are beginning to wear off and he could use the sleep.</p><p>Fuck. What a day.</p><p>He stumbles inside his cabin when he finally arrives, kicking off his boots and tossing his gear on the bench by the door. He places the bag down gently (can’t risk breaking anything inside), pets Roach as she greets him and fumbles to his bed.</p><p>Geralt strips his clothes off and slides into the scratchy sheets, closing his eyes and tuning out the rhythms of the outside world. However, his mind drifts to the garbled words that came from Jaskier’s mouth, and apparently, because Destiny <em>hates</em> him, translates the incoherent speech to what the intended words were.</p><p>
  <em>“Come to rescue me my handsome prince?”</em>
</p><p> Geralt shoots forward, eyes big and wide.</p><p>Jaskier said that to Geralt, when he was high on his potions. He must’ve been absolutely delirious.<em> No one</em> in their sane mind would say that if they weren’t completely out of it right?</p><p>The fluttering feeling comes back.</p><p>Geralt resigns himself to no sleep as those words will plague him with their meaning and the fact that even though Jaskier had been on the brink of consciousness, Geralt had never heard anyone be so sincere.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Outfit Inspiration: </p><p> </p><p>Geralt: </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Triss: </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alright. Next chapter will be out next week. See you all then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Man In The Woods</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone! </p><p>I am so sorry this chapter is so late! It has been a week. But here it is! Chapter 5 for your pleasure.</p><p>Enjoy lovelies!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Winter Woods</p><p>Chapter 5</p><p>The Man In The Woods</p><p><em>“I scream for everything that has gone wrong. I scream for everything broken in our lives.”<br/>― Marie Lu, </em> <em>Champion</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>The bell to Triss’s shop shakes furiously underneath the slamming of her door. Jaskier, utterly determined and ready to wreak havoc should the situation call for it, bursts into her store, a furious whirlwind as he stomps to the front.</p><p>“TRISS!” he shouts, trying to keep his cool but irked from her omission of knowing the man in the woods. If she had <em>just told him,</em> he wouldn’t have risked his neck trying to find the bloke.</p><p>Of course, Triss isn’t going to <em>see </em>it that way and will, most definitely, put the ownness on him (which might be fair but fuck all if she isn’t going to get a good <em>scathing</em>).</p><p>This all could have been avoided. This all could have been handled with<em> efficiency. </em>Jaskier could’ve met him earlier. Charmed the stranger into…well, he’s not sure <em>what </em>exactly, but<em> surely</em> if he had been given the opportunity, then perhaps he would’ve found a true companion. And, if Destiny were so kind, a solution to his heartbreak.</p><p>But alas, none of this happened. And instead, Jaskier’s left with an irked mindset towards one of his favourite people.</p><p>Today is <em>not </em>going to be a good day.</p><p>Triss pops up from behind the counter only to be confronted with a scowling Jaskier. He, upon seeing her questioning brow, attempts to reconcile his face to something softer.</p><p>“Jas, you okay?”</p><p>“You know the man in the woods.”</p><p>She purses he lips as Jaskier’s eyes dart around, following every movement she makes. Perhaps he’ll catch her lying. She’ll probably dance around the truth and he’ll have to catch those moments and turn them into confrontation. A finger pointed at the obvious lie.</p><p>“Come on, upstairs.”</p><p>She goes to the front of her shop, flips the sign to closed, locks the door, and then grabs his wrist, dragging him to her apartment above.</p><p>“Sit. I’ll make some tea.”</p><p>Jaskier gingerly places himself into one of her large comfy chairs, snuggling in. Might as well be utterly comfortable if they’re about to dive into an intense conversation. Triss makes herself useful in the kitchen, fluttering about with banging from opening cupboards.</p><p>“Here. We’ll need this.”</p><p>“Triss…this is one of your finest bottles of scotch.”</p><p>“Yes. And we’ll make some hot toddies with it. I can’t drink that stuff straight. You know that.”</p><p>The kettle sounds itself loud and clear. Jaskier watches Triss scuttle over, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet above. She pours the hot water and delivers it over to where he’s sitting, on a tray accompanied by lemons, cinnamon sticks and honey.</p><p>“Here. Doll yours up the way you like.”</p><p>Jaskier does as she suggests, fixing it with some lemon and a whole lotta scotch. He settles back into his chair once done, sipping the beverage in bliss. “So. How do you know the man in the woods?”</p><p>“His name is Geralt.”</p><p>
  <em>Geralt. </em>
</p><p>The name settles into Jaskier, branding itself onto his heart. The stranger, by far the most beautiful person he has ever met, now has an identity. Something <em>tangible. </em>No longer is he an outsider, an Adonis to gaze upon. But a real figure</p><p>“Geralt.” It rolls smoothly off his tongue.</p><p>“Yes. He’s been in the woods for a long time.”</p><p>“So, who he is? How did he get there?”</p><p>“Jas, I love you. But Geralt? He’s not a companion type of person. It would be best if you left him alone.”</p><p><em>“You</em> see him. How often?”</p><p>“Once every two weeks. Sometimes more if he needs it.”</p><p>“Why do <em>you </em>get to see him? Why can’t <em>I </em>get to know him? I am <em>quite</em> good company.”</p><p>“You can be. But Geralt’s a lone wolf. He likes his solitude.”</p><p>Jaskier frowns. He understands the lone wolf premise. Individuals who tend to fend for themselves, preferring independence than collaboration. Yes, people such as that are not the worst but <em>surely</em> being alone in the forest bodes poorly. Geralt, from Triss’s words, may want to be alone but he too is human is he not? And don’t all humans, at some point, desire <em>companionship?</em> Even wolves don’t like to travel by themselves forever.</p><p>Soon enough, won’t they find themselves a pack?</p><p>“Your brain is spinning.”</p><p>“Just musing. I understand the whole, <em>I’m better off alone prospect</em>, but how do you know him? You’re in town more often than not.”</p><p>“It isn’t really my story to tell.”</p><p>“<em>Hogwash.</em> That’s a coward’s excuse.”</p><p>
  <em>“Jas.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Triss.” </em>
</p><p>She sighs. “You know the legend of the woods?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Well, it’s based on a truth. It’s just…been restructured to appear more mythical and mysterious.”</p><p>“What’s the truth then?”</p><p>“Did you ever hear about the Kaer Morhen explosion?”</p><p>Jaskier frowns, scanning his brain for any tidbit based off of that name. “No. What is it?”</p><p>“About a hundred years ago, an explosion happened at a laboratory in the mountains. The lab was known as Kaer Morhen, though what occurred inside was more sinister than what the public knew.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“The place was run by a group known as The Brotherhood. They were sorcerers who experimented on humans. They’re goal was to create a superior race.”</p><p>“A race that could conquer everyone else, especially elves I imagine?”</p><p>“Yup. Tons of orphans flooded the building and lived there.”</p><p>“What was your role?”</p><p>“I was a part of a group of sorceresses who were investigating the lab. We didn’t know everything that was going on, but we sensed the evil chaos that lurked inside the walls. So, we were trying to find evidence of wrongdoing so we could shut the place down.”</p><p>“Did you manage to find anything?”</p><p>“We didn’t have to. About fifty years after the creation of Kaer Morhen, the place exploded. We rushed to the site only to see everything in flames. Amongst it was the people inside and we did our best to rescue them and bring them out. Geralt was one of the ones I managed to get to.”</p><p>“And then?”</p><p>“And then I hid him.”</p><p>“In the woods.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Wait. The witch in the story…is she<em> you?</em>”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “I have…many questions regarding <em>that</em> but—that was <em>YOU?!”</em></p><p> Triss chuckles. “Yes. It was. I needed a story to spin to keep Geralt safe.”</p><p>“<em>By gods</em> you never cease to surprise me.”</p><p>“<em>Someone</em> needs to keep you on your toes.”</p><p>“Yes, yes, so everyone says. Was Geralt the only one you saved?”</p><p>“No. But, that story isn’t mine to share.”</p><p>“The maiden. He had a companion, didn’t he?”</p><p>Triss chooses to ignore his question, taking a sip instead. Jaskier knows the action for what it is though. An avoidance. His personal saviour appears to have some sort of paramour (he can only assume, and, well, <em>that </em>hurts more than he’d like to admit) or at least, <em>used</em> to have someone.</p><p>A wolf who lost his mate. He can only imagine the agony Geralt has gone through.</p><p>He himself has gone through quite the heartbreak.</p><p>“Anyway. That’s really all there is to it.”</p><p>“So, what? You just visit him now?”</p><p>“Check ups really. Make sure he’s fully stocked with supplies he can’t find on his own.”</p><p>“Were you ever…an item? With him?”</p><p>“No. At one point…I wanted to be but, he was never ready for that. And I think in the long run, we’ve been better for it.”</p><p>“Well, he missed out on someone truly wonderful.”</p><p>Triss smiles at that. “Thanks Jas.”</p><p>“You are forever welcome my dear.”</p><p>The pair clink their mugs in gratitude before settling into a simple silence. Jaskier’s mind is whirring with all the new information he’s learned. He’s still a little dazed by Triss’s confession of being the witch of the legend and then Geralt with whoever his lover was, being the couple cursed by a cruel man. Or a group of corrupt souls eager to gain power. He can only assume there is more to the story about this supposed jinx, but Jaskier knows he’s gotten all he can from Triss. She’s probably superbly anxious about how much she’s shared already.</p><p>He reaches over and places a hand on hers. “Thank you. For sharing. I know it couldn’t have been easy to give this secret away.”</p><p>Triss looks at their clasped hands and squeezes his. “Yes but, you’re not just anyone Jaskier. And honestly, it’s kinda nice to share this with someone who, you know, actually <em>talks.</em>”</p><p>“Is Geralt not much of a conversationalist?”</p><p>She snorts. “Not at all. You can barely get a sentence out of him on a <em>good </em>day.”</p><p>Jaskier chuckles along with her though his mind is sharp to the challenge. Getting a beautiful man to open his heart and mouth to divulge his deepest passions?</p><p>Jaskier’s <em>never</em> been more excited for something so difficult.</p><p>But he’ll keep that to himself. Triss certainly would disapprove of him venturing into the woods again to find Geralt. Especially with all her talk of him being a lone wolf.</p><p>Jaskier, however, can’t shake the feeling that the lone wolf attitude is more of a façade.</p><p>Because who wants to be alone forever?</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>After finishing his drink with Triss and promising things he has <em>no </em>intention of keeping, Jaskier now stands at the edge of the woods.</p><p>Again. At some point, he’s going to need to <em>actually succeed </em>in finding Geralt and convince him to keep him around.</p><p>He’s always been a rather determined fellow.</p><p>It’s evening, just shy of the afternoon. The sun gives a rosy glow to the sky as the townsfolk scurry about finishing errands from a hard day’s work.</p><p>And for Jaskier, it’s the perfect time to slip into the forest and seek out the man who has save him numerous times. His bag is packed, strapped on his back. He’s worn his finer boots today to get good traction in case he has to run for his life (it’s happened enough, and he’s quite <em>done</em> being in distress). “Here we go.”</p><p>He steps in, following his usual route (by gods he has a <em>usual route</em>. His mother always did say he was too reckless and clearly he’s more than willing to risk his neck for a handsome stranger).</p><p>Maybe he should ask Triss to use her chaos to check to see if he’s ill. He’s certainly never done anything like this for his loved ones, let alone a <em>stranger. </em></p><p>Then again, Geralt doesn’t <em>seem</em> like a stranger. With a name, Jaskier feels closer to the man. His mother always spoke in the power of names, how merely whispering one could give you immense power. He’s never understood her strange theories about life and love, but, in this moment, there is truth to what she said.</p><p>Moreover, Jaskier just…he doesn’t feel like Geralt wants to be alone. It’s a gut notion, in the deepest parts of him, that insists the glorious man desires company. Similar to what he must’ve had long ago.</p><p>Jaskier can’t shake that inkling away. So, he spurs him forward. Determination increasing with every step.</p><p>He doesn’t look back. There’s not point. He will continue to come into the woods, continue to scour the trees, continue to make his own paths, until he finds him.</p><p>And thanks him.</p><p>Though at this point, thanking him is just a frivolous excuse to just <em>know</em> him. Jaskier hasn’t known anyone is an exceptionally long time. Not even the countess, who he believed knew him and he knew her in return. No. They did not know each other for if that had, Jaskier would’ve seen the heartbreak coming long before it actually occurred.</p><p>He pauses for a quick snack break, munching happily on the granola bars he packed. He tucks the litter into his bag when finished and then continues on. The sun has begun to fade, indicating that it will be dark soon.</p><p>“Maybe Geralt does patrols. That would certainly make this trip easier.”</p><p>Alas, there is no Geralt wandering around. Jaskier can’t hear anything out of the ordinary as he makes his way through all the plants. Only a creek in the far-off distance, bugs flittering about and perhaps a rabbit or two dashing away from his presence.</p><p>“You know, if it wasn’t for that whole legend Triss created, the woods could be…quite romantic.” No one hears him of course, but Jaskier finds small comfort in talking to himself.</p><p>Otherwise, he’ll feel truly alone in this dark place.</p><p>“Only a legend Jas. Triss said so herself. Just an elaborate legend to cover a fragile truth.”</p><p>As Jaskier mutters comforts to himself he finally comes across a clearing with a cave settled in amongst the trunks. The clearing isn’t particularly big and there seems to be some sort of campfire pit in the middle. It’s long burnt out as the embers no longer flicker. Ash is smeared on the grass around and smoke still lingers in the air.</p><p>“Well. This is rather unpleasant.”</p><p>He kicks the dirt on the ground before glancing around the area. Nothing seems strange, but he’s learned a thing or two about the woods.</p><p>Danger is always lurking around the corner. Or, in this instance, a cave.</p><p>“I probably shouldn’t go in.”</p><p>The mouth of the cave doesn’t answer, only offering an entrance into complete darkness. No light streams forth from it’s depths or sounds erupting inside.</p><p>Everything is silent.</p><p>“Right. Jaskier.<em> Darling</em>. You, most<em> certainly</em>, do not, under <em>any </em>circumstances, need to step into the cave. You can just continue your search elsewhere.”</p><p>His feet fail to move.</p><p>“It’s an ominous presence. Very much a blaring sign of do not enter.”</p><p>Still doesn’t move.</p><p>Jaskier takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he does so. When he opens them, nothing has changed.</p><p>“Well. I don’t know what I though that was going to do. But, well, perhaps I’m going about this all wrong.”</p><p>An idea begins to form. “Geralt usually finds me right when I’m in a spot of trouble. If I encounter something in the cave, Geralt will come.”</p><p>A risky move certainly, but Jaskier’s confidence with the decision overwhelms the fear simmering inside. “Right. Well. Here we go.”</p><p>Firmly nodding, Jaskier sets forth, into the cave and is immediately submerged in darkness. He places his hand on the wall to guide him inside. Pebbles crunch underneath his boots and water drips from somewhere further inside.</p><p>“Just keep moving. Don’t stop. You’ll be fine.”</p><p>Jaskier does as he speaks. The cave gets colder with every step he takes, the dripping water becomes louder and the floor begins to get slippery. So slippery, that Jaskier’s foot shoots out from under him, knocking him flat onto his back.</p><p>“Bloody buggering fuck.”</p><p>He hisses as he begins to pull himself back to his feet but pauses as he realizes, <em>he isn’t the only one hissing.  </em></p><p>He looks up, only to see glowing eyes staring him down.</p><p>“Oh no.”</p><p>He screams.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Geralt’s day had gone well. As per his routine, he got up, had some water, weeded his garden, plucked the food ready for harvesting, fed Roach, went hunting, chopped down more firewood, and fixed the fence around his property.</p><p>It was a smooth day. No interruptions from wild animals or pesky humans. Just him, Roach, and the natural serenade from the sounds of nature.</p><p>Now he rests from a hard day’s work; sitting inside his cabin, nursing a white gull as Roach sits on his lap purring. He stares into the fire, occasionally swirling the liquid in his glass as he held his pensive state.</p><p>It’s times like this he misses his brothers and Vesemir. Playing a game of Gwent or drinking the other into oblivion. Joyful noises of family. Something that Geralt wishes that perhaps he could have again.</p><p>And then Renfri. The woman who experienced pain unlike any other from the hands that made Geralt who he is. Someone who could understand the darkest nights and fight as fiercely as him. Until…well…</p><p>Geralt takes a deep swig of his drink. Sometimes it can be quite lonesome when it’s just you plagued by your thoughts and forced to relive your worst nightmares. If only someone was here to distract him from this.  </p><p>Triss’s company is fine but she never stays nor would Geralt want her to. She’s not made for this world of isolation. Besides, Renfri hangs over his home like an omen; constantly reminding him of what happens when someone he cares for gets too close.</p><p>So yes. It is best Triss stays away from him. And other humans should stay far away too.</p><p>Like the bothersome little twerp who keeps showing up, unannounced, and disturbing Geralt’s peace.</p><p>He doesn’t know what to make of Jaskier. Triss speaks highly of him (sometimes) but their interactions have left him frustrated (if his chest flutters, he ignores it because <em>who the fuck knows</em> what that shit is).</p><p>Geralt’s seen the peacocking Jaskier’s done in the town square. He wants no part of that. The man is clearly a handful and the witcher knows that if they were stranded in a room together, he’d murder the idiot just to have a bit of quiet.</p><p>And yet.</p><p>And <em>fucking</em> yet.</p><p>There’s just something about Jaskier that Geralt can’t shake.</p><p>He doesn’t know him. Never had a conversation with him where he was conscious. Every encounter has been poorly done, with the human being on the brink of death and Geralt having to save his ass.</p><p>He’s <em>really</em> tired of having to save his ass.</p><p>Even though, it is, unfortunately, a rather nice ass. But Geralt’s quite content to keep that observation to himself.</p><p>He takes another sip of his drink, growing moodier by the second as his mind focuses on Jaskier’s frail body. He hopes the man’s injuries are healing well. It would be unfortunate if he—</p><p>
  <strong>“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”</strong>
</p><p>The scream tears through the cabin. Roach hisses and jumps up, pouncing away. Geralt slams his glass down, knowing exactly who is screaming.</p><p>“Jaskier.”</p><p>He rushes to grab everything he needs. He won’t have time with the armour. Not if he wants to save the human’s life from whatever monster he’s tempted now. “Fuck.”</p><p>He grabs his swords and straps them on. He doesn’t have time to chug a potion or make sure he’s well protected. Jaskier needs him.</p><p>
  <em>Now. </em>
</p><p>He slams his door open not bothering to shut it behind him. The runs towards the sound. He can hear growling and hissing following behind, what he can only assume, to be Jaskier’s feeble attempts at protecting himself. But Geralt knows that a human can’t last a long time in this forest nor against the creatures that live here.</p><p>Geralt runs faster.</p><p>He can hear Jaskier let out another yell which is closely followed by a resounding smack and then some colourful swearing.</p><p>Geralt comes out of the woods only to find Jaskier rushing out of a cave with ghouls right on his heels. The musician waves around some sort of bag aimlessly, as if trying to hit one of the creatures. He keeps missing, the bag heavy enough to land a good hit but too heavy to actually <em>land</em> a hit. “Get away from me you wankers!”</p><p>One of the ghouls manages to grab Jaskier’s ankle and yanks, causing the man to fall and smack his head on the ground. He groans, eyes fluttering shut meaning that he’s probably gone unconscious.</p><p>Again.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>If ghouls are emerging from the cave, then it must’ve been a crypt of sorts. That’s something Geralt will check into later. For now, he’s got to rescue the human from being food.</p><p>He intervenes into the fight, placing himself between a prone Jaskier and the ghouls. He stabs the first one with his silver sword, pulling it out in satisfaction as the body slumbers down. He then swings it around, slicing through the next two and decapitating the third. Two more ghouls lunge for him, but Geralt snuffs them out quickly, like a candle’s flame vanishing by a soft breath.</p><p>“Well. That was easy.”</p><p>He sticks his sword in the ground and pulls it up, a small way to clean his blade before sheathing it. With the threat no longer prominent, Geralt can give his full attention to the unconscious figure, currently lying on the ground.</p><p>Jaskier being knocked out means it’ll be easier to take him home. No conversations, no questions. Just drop him off and leave. Maybe chain him to the bed so he doesn’t follow.</p><p>The idea gives Geralt a good chuckle.</p><p>“Well. I’d say getting you to laugh is a good first step.”</p><p>Geralt freezes, slowly turning to face a now very conscious Jaskier, sitting up and grinning shamelessly. His eyes grow wide, unable to look away from the human. Jaskier gets up, dusts himself off (didn’t he smack the ground?<em> Hard?</em>).</p><p>“Speechless. Fascinating. Triss did mention you’re not much of a talker but I do like a challenge. Now, Geralt is it? I just wanted to—”</p><p>Geralt bolts. Leaves the bodies and Jaskier in his wake and just runs into the trees.</p><p>“GERALT. WAIT.” Jaskier gives chase but there’s no way he’ll be able to keep with a witcher.</p><p>Not on his life.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Outfit Inspiration: </p><p> </p><p>Jaskier: </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Triss:  </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Geralt: </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alright. I aim to have Chapter 6 out in two weeks. I think bi-weekly might be easier for me to manage so I hope you're all okay with that! </p><p>So I'll have the next chapter out by the latest by Feb. 21. And y'all...next chapter??? WE FINALLY GET SOME GOOD GERALT/JASKIER content. </p><p>So get ready. </p><p>See you beauties in two weeks!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Cabin In The Woods</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lol whoops! Forgot to add a note! </p><p>Here's Chapter 6 y'all. And, well, I've been reading a lot of A/B/O fics and uhhhh....this chapter might've gotten a litttttle influcenced by that (but like...are we really complaining? ;) ) </p><p>So, without further ado, here's the latest chapter. </p><p>Enjoy lovelies!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Winter Woods</p><p>Chapter 6</p><p>The Cabin In The Woods</p><p>
  <em>“If you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.”<br/>― <strong>Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper </strong></em>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Here’s the thing about Jaskier and <em>anything</em> involving endurance. The only thing, in which he will <em>actually </em>endure brutal strength and dexterity of his own body, is sex.</p><p>Not fighting. Not working out. And <em>especially </em>not running.</p><p>Only marathons of climaxing to one losing <em>utter </em>control over their sensibilities in the throes of passion is allowed.</p><p>And <em>yet. </em></p><p>Here he is.</p><p>Running through the woods like an <em>utter</em> buffoon, chasing after a man who has no doubt lost him by this point, because Jaskier just wants to <em>know</em> him<em>. </em>Talk to him. And quite feasibly (perhaps, if given the opportunity) <em>love</em> him.</p><p>And, you know, sleep with him. But that will come later.</p><p>Maybe.</p><p>Possibly.</p><p>If he could just <em>catch up to him.</em></p><p>But, as Jaskier slows down his pace and scans the trees in the darkness, he can tell that Geralt is long gone. Or, at least, vanished before him. There’s a good chance he’s lingering nearby, watching Jaskier to make sure he leaves the forest safe and sound.</p><p>Except, Jaskier’s never left the forest on his own. He’s always been unconscious and Geralt has carried him back to his house.</p><p>“Hm…” A lightbulb goes off. It’s risky, but Jaskier’s quite sure it may be the only way to get what he wants. A face-to-face meeting with the dashing rescuer of his.</p><p>A sigh releases itself. Well. Here he goes.</p><p>Jaskier stills himself amongst the trees, a prickling feeling at the back of his neck that he’s being observed. He <em>prays</em> it’s Geralt (because if it’s another fiend he’s going to <em>lose it)</em> and shouts.</p><p>“Geralt!”</p><p>No answer. Not that he was expecting one anyway.</p><p>“Look, you can run away all you like but I, good sir, am a humble human. And we both know that if you leave me on my own I will, most likely, not make out of these woods alive.”</p><p>Some rustling occurs but nothing makes itself known. Jaskier keeps going. “Wouldn’t it be better if you at least <em>showed me</em> the way out? Or, perhaps, kept me in a safe spot till dawn comes? Because leaving me here, alone, is surely going to result in my death and well…do you really want that on your conscious? I would be safer with you. We both know it.”</p><p>Jaskier waits with bated breath. He knows he’s right in his claim and he’s sure Geralt, deep down, probably knows it too.</p><p>Still. One can only <em>hope.</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Geralt stands in the dark and watches every movement Jaskier makes sharply. The young man is clearly out of breath from running so hard, if the huffing and wheezing is anything to go by. That means that if he came across something more sinister than those ghouls, he’ll be eaten alive. Though, he’s a clever bastard, Geralt will give him that.</p><p>His trickery of being unconscious <em>threw </em>Geralt.</p><p>He doesn’t do social interaction. Doesn’t engage with humans other than Triss (because usually they’re afraid of him and want to <em>burn him at the stake</em>). He stays in the woods, where he’s safe from them (and they’re safe from him).</p><p>Until Jaskier.</p><p>Everything with him is…new. Geralt doesn’t like it.</p><p>And <em>yet.</em> There’s <em>something</em> about the human that Geralt can’t shake.</p><p>He doesn’t know what to make of him. Doesn’t know how to interact with him because he doesn’t <em>act</em> like the others. He’s seen Geralt’s face and rather than run, he’s sought him out. Over and over again, despite his warnings.</p><p>This man is different.</p><p>And that scares Geralt to his core.</p><p>That’s why he ran. Because humans aren’t supposed to want to talk to him. To <em>know </em>him. They’re supposed to be <em>afraid</em> of him.</p><p>But not Jaskier.</p><p><em>Never</em> Jaskier if experience with this man has taught him anything.</p><p>“Geralt!”</p><p>The man in question ruses Geralt from his thinking, bringing his attention back to the human who now stands still. Trunks of looming trees partially cover him from Geralt’s view, but he can smell the rich scent of sandalwood and mint coming from him. The smell has a lingering fear in it, but it’s hard to spot as the rest of it feels <em>warm </em>in his nose. A feeling usually associate with comfort and safety.</p><p><em>“Strange human.”</em> is what the witcher thinks as he watches Jaskier like prey. The man sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, before letting out a deep breath.</p><p>“Look, you can run away all you like but I, good sir, am a humble human. And we both know that if you leave me on my own I will, most likely, not make out of these woods alive.”</p><p>Geralt’s brow furrows at the point the human makes. On one hand, leaving him behind means that he’d learn to fend for himself (he’s got some fight in him if the swinging bag at ghouls is anything to go by) and he’ll finally leave Geralt alone.</p><p>On the <em>other </em>hand, if he leaves now, Jaskier will, most certainly, die. Which would undo all the work he’s done about saving him in the first place. Not to mention Triss will have his head and she is one sorceress he does <em>not</em> want to piss off.</p><p>So he moves a tad closer to Jaskier. Soft footsteps as to not alert the human that he’s <em>actually</em> listening but the musician spins to the noise when one boots lands on some crunchy leaves. Geralt stills and waits for Jaskier to look away. He does, allowing the witcher to settle. The human huffs before beginning his rambling once more. “Wouldn’t it be better if you at least <em>showed me</em> the way out? Or, perhaps, kept me in a safe spot till dawn comes? Because leaving me here, alone, is surely going to result in my death and well…do you really want that on your conscious? I would be safer with you. We both know it.”</p><p>Geralt ponders Jaskier’s words, letting them sink into him. The human has made a valid point. He doesn’t want another death plaguing his mind, especially one that could’ve been so easily avoided.</p><p>And Jaskier <em>would</em> be safer with him. Not that he likes the idea of the human lingering around longer than necessarily.</p><p>He sniffs the air to get a whiff of possible issues and it smells rancid. That means escorting him home is out of the question. A dark creature is lingering in the forest. It’s probably following Jaskier’s scent of fresh blood pumping underneath lively skin.</p><p>He’s got to get him out of here, and <em>fast.</em></p><p>Which means only one thing.</p><p>He has to take him back to his cabin.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jaskier isn’t sure if Geralt’s heard him or is merely mulling over what he said. But he can <em>feel </em>the night getting darker, the forest becoming more ominous, and if he’s honest with himself, a genuine fear seeping into his bones.</p><p>His arms cross to cover his chest as he waits and <em>hopes </em>Geralt comes into the light so he can see him.</p><p>“Geralt?” he whispers, looking to the spot where he might’ve heard him earlier. He pauses for a few moments, swearing he can see a hulking human shape hidden in the dark. But nothing comes forward. The shape doesn’t move, causing Jaskier to bite his lip.</p><p>Perhaps Geralt <em>truly</em> disappeared. And now, Jaskier is all alone in the winter woods.</p><p>“Well. I am utterly and truly fucked.” The confidence in his voice shakes. Gods, what is he going to do now? He has no idea where he is or how to get out or—</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>The grunt that comes from behind him makes him whip around, eyes growing wide as, who he can <em>only</em> assume is Geralt is now standing before him and if he was fucked before by getting eaten alive, he is <em>truly fucked</em> now because…</p><p>Hot damn.</p><p>Geralt is <em>mouth watering. </em></p><p>Jaskier’s quite sure he could crush watermelons with his thighs and that <em>does things</em> to him that he desperately attempts to cover with his bag.</p><p>An eyebrow goes up as a smirk appears on Geralt’s face, clearly pleased with rendering Jaskier silent and he can just <em>hear</em> the man taunting him.</p><p>“Speechless. <em>Fascinating.</em>” A mockery of his own pride. But Jaskier can’t even focus on that because his <em>voice.</em> Deep, sultry, and goes straight down Jaskier’s spine like molasses. Geralt’s grin is feral in the faint moonlight and <em>well. </em></p><p>Jaskier’s in love. He has absolutely no doubt about that. He is down right <em>smitten </em>with this hulk of a man and he would happily let Geralt take him against one of these trees. Or on the ground.</p><p>Whatever he prefers as long as he <em>takes him. </em></p><p>Jaskier also thinks he might see a bit of fang and well <em>fuck him sideways. </em></p><p>“Ah right. Lovely to meet you Geralt.” He sticks his hand out like an utter buffoon, not really sure what to do with this gorgeous beast other than drool so he attempts some bit of formality (and hopes he can get himself <em>under control</em>).</p><p>Geralt stares at his hand as if it’s plagued. Jaskier, sheepishly coughs, wipes it against his sweater and hesitantly makes eye contact.</p><p>“follow me.”</p><p>“Oh I’ll follow you anywhere.” Jaskier mutters to himself once Geralt turns his back to him. Swallowing down all of his desire, he steps onto the path the handsome man makes, making sure not to stray off it. His eyes stay one the bulging back (<em>ye gods</em>) and most certainly <em>not </em>on the arse.</p><p>The back is safer. <em>Much </em>safer.</p><p>As they walk, Jaskier wonders where Geralt is leading him. Is it back home? Will he be stepping out into the edge and see his house resting in the distance? The empty building filled with nothing but temporary items? He’s never really…had a home. Never had a place to settle. This little town he lives in now is the closest thing he’s had to anything remotely similar to a place to call his own and even then…</p><p>It’s <em>lonely.</em></p><p>The countess’s home was always too big. Looming over him with it’s fanciness and elegance. But it never felt like a place of belonging. It was simply showmanship. An elaborate building to display utter snobs.</p><p>It wasn’t a home.</p><p>And Jaskier…Jaskier wants a <em>home.</em> A place to share with someone, a place to rise with the morning sun greeting him as coffee is brought to his bedside by his lover (he always had to do it for the countess, and it would be nice to be pampered for a change) and kiss him goodnight while holding him close as the moon says hello.</p><p>Perhaps…now that he dwells on it, it’s a <em>good</em> thing the countess and him are finished. Maybe now he’ll find what he’s wanted for so long. A partner. In every sense of the word.</p><p>“We’re here.” Geralt grumbles as the pair step into a clearing, stirring Jaskier away from his melancholy thoughts (and epiphany). He gasps as he takes in the cabin that lays before him, with a garden and coop of to the side.</p><p>The size of the building is modest. Certainly not gargantuan like the countess’s manor but definitely not small and quaint. There’s enough space to extend any of the walls if necessary too. Not that it’s any of his business of course.</p><p>It’s just…cozy. Something that Jaskier finds absolutely enchanting about it.</p><p>“Is this…is this your home?”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>Right. Triss did say he’s rather tough with communication. No matter. Jaskier’s got enough vocabulary for the both of them.</p><p>“it’s lovely.” He says softly, wanting to convey the significance of being brought here as he knows it’s most likely a burden for Geralt.</p><p>The man only blinks at him in response before grunting his way indoors, leaving the door open for Jaskier to amble on through. He sighs, running a hand through his hair nervously as he enters the cabin. Jaskier isn’t sure what to expect when he steps inside, but the emptiness isn’t it.</p><p>It reminds him of his house.</p><p>
  <em>“He truly is just as lonely as I am.” </em>
</p><p>There’s a couch by a fireplace with a chair. A ragged carpet lays on the floor in-between. There’s no electronics from what Jaskier can see (a true frontier man. How<em> marvelous</em>) the kitchen and living room are one open space with a hallway to the right that must lead to the bathroom and bedroom. Everything is wood, smooth and sleek as Jaskier runs his fingers along one of the logs.</p><p>“Sit.”</p><p>Jaskier does as the voice commands, gingerly placing himself on the couch, not quite sure what to. Instead, he taps his fingers on the soft blanket that was thrown hazardly on. Geralt disappears down the hall but comes back out soon, his arms full of blankets and pillows. He sets it on the other end of the couch. From there, he begins to strip off all his equipment and place it on the rack near the door, into cupboards in the kitchen and back in his room.</p><p>Jaskier watches it all, intrigued by this mysterious man who says nothing but does much. Geralt leaves his room, rolling up his sleeves as he walks back into the kitchen underneath Jaskier’s stalkerish gaze. He really should stop gawking, but he can’t help it.</p><p>Geralt simply <em>fascinates</em> him.</p><p>“You drink?”</p><p>“Uh. Yes. Definitely. Most certainly do. <em>I</em> do. The drink. I drink—Yes.” Jaskier scrunches his face as it flames, wishing he could just pass the moment by without his tongue getting in a twister over the sheer beauty that is his rescuer. He misses the smirk on Geralt’s lips as he attempts to reign in his embarrassment with closed eyes.</p><p>“You can take the bed.”</p><p>That causes Jaskier’s eyes to flash open. “What? No. I couldn’t.”</p><p>“More comfortable for humans.”</p><p>Right. Because Geralt isn’t fully human. But still…</p><p>“No. Geralt. I insist. I will take the couch.”</p><p>Geralt pauses his movements in the kitchen.</p><p>“How do you know my name?”</p><p>“Triss told me. She…uh…she told me a bit about you actually.”</p><p>“Hm.” grunts the man as he grabs ice from the fridge, and it clinks as it falls into the glass.</p><p>“She didn’t tell me much. But I thought you should know I know a bit about Kaer Morhen? And the role she played. She didn’t tell me about your role or anything. Just hers. So, your life is still very much a secret.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>The man walks over and hands Jaskier a glass filled with a potent smelling liquid that wafts into his nostrils. He takes a deeper sniff, gagging on the smell. “Bloody hell what is this?”</p><p>Geralt, however, is completely unaffected by the scent and Jaskier can only watch in a morbid fascination (and a sexual fascination because the way the man swallows his drink is <em>just…) </em>a giant gulp of it. Golden eyes stray to his, a small smirk vanishing as quickly as it appeared.  Jaskier swallows his desire down with a tentative sip of the ivory liquid.</p><p>He sputters, wincing as it burns down his throat and he slams the glass on the table to the side.</p><p>“Absolutely not. That is utter death.”</p><p>“It’s white gull.”</p><p>“No. No <em>that</em> drink is pure<em> poison.</em>”</p><p>Jaskier wheezes out the last bit of toxins from the beverage, unaware that Geralt’s gotten up, grabbed another bottle in the kitchen and placed it before him. When he does discover the bottle of whiskey he snatches it, glugging down more than a human should but eager to get rid of the aftertaste of that horrible, <em>horrible </em>drink.</p><p>“<em>By gods.</em> <em>Much</em> better. Now, onto the bed. I truly don’t mind taking the couch. It’s your house. I’m already intruding enough as it is.”</p><p>Geralt sips his gull this time, eyes straying to the fire and Jaskier feels a warmth spread through him as he sees flames flicker in the golden irises.</p><p>Geralt really is a breathtaking man and Jaskier just…he just wants to know everything about him.</p><p>“Take the bed Jaskier.”</p><p>“How do you know my name?”</p><p>A droll look passes over answering the question. “Of course. Triss.”</p><p>Geralt only takes another sip.</p><p>Jaskier sighs, wanting to know more about his companion but beginning to really understand Triss’s words when she referred to his as a lone wolf. He wants to talk with him, but from the way he stares into the fire only tells Jaskier that he has no interest in chatting. He likes the quiet.</p><p>But if it’s quiet, then Jaskier feels alone. His parents home was always quiet.</p><p>“Well. I suppose I’ll head off to bed then.” He gets up, taking the blanket with him because it’s <em>soft</em> (and possibly has a delicious musky scent that makes him think of Geralt but that’s neither here nor there).</p><p>He saunters over to the door to what he can only assume to be the bedroom. Before he turns in for the night though, he faces Geralt, his blues landing on those beautiful golds. “Thank you. Goodnight Geralt.”</p><p>Nothing is spoken, but the sunset eyes follow him rapidly as he enters the bedroom tell him that Geralt has at least heard him.</p><p>So, there’s that.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Geralt watches Jaskier disappear after his faint goodnight. It’s strange, having someone else in his bed. He hasn’t had anyone in his bed in a long time.</p><p>The white gull disappears after that last thought just as Roach appears from thin air. She meows, hopping onto the couch, right in the spot where Jaskier sat, and plops herself down.</p><p>“Thought you didn’t like anyone.”</p><p>Roach only purrs and licks her underside making Geralt roll his eyes. Of course she would find solace in Jaskier’s spot.</p><p>Especially with the smell of sandalwood and mint so heavy in the air. It saunters around, threatening Geralt’s sanity because…<em>holy fuck. </em></p><p>It smells really good. Intoxicating that he could barely say anything to the human but just breathe in the heady scent.</p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>He has to get him out of the house. Except, his original plan was to let Jaskier sleep in his bed until he’s in a deep slumber, then carry him back to his own bed once the sun begins to peek on the horizon.</p><p>Now however, he just wants to throw him outside, lock the door, and never let the smell of sandalwood and mint enter his home again.</p><p>“Triss would kill me.”</p><p>So, Geralt does the only thing he can think of. He kneels down, closes his eyes and lets his mind go into a serene state. Calmness settles over him like a heavy blanket, easing his thoughts and senses into a cool wave that crawls up the shore.</p><p>He stays like this for a while. His body recharges slowly from the earlier escapade, reassured by the soft sounds come from Jaskier in the bedroom as he settles further into slumber, Roach’s content purring and the faint scent of sandalwood and mint hanging in the air.</p><p>Until a creature somewhere deep in the woods howls. For Geralt, this is normal. Monsters often howl and hoot in the middle of the night, either to warn off predators or to celebrate catching their prey.</p><p>But for Jaskier it is not.</p><p>Geralt hears a thump of a body hitting the floor and then the bedroom door slamming open, snapping him out of his trance. He spares a glance over his shoulder only to see those true blues big and wide and the stench of fear curdling from the smaller frame.</p><p>He’s wrapped in the blanket he took from the couch, a ratty old thing that has seen better days.</p><p>“Uh Geralt…what uh…what was that?”</p><p>“Nothing to worry about.”</p><p>“Right. Of course. Just a monster probably wishing it could devour my flesh. Are we…are we safe here?”</p><p>“Safer than being out there.”</p><p>“Well. <em>That’s</em> reassuring.”</p><p>The sarcasm isn’t appreciated but Geralt can recognize the futile attempts at putting on a brave face. As much as he would like to just send the musician back to bed, he knows the human isn’t going to get much sleep by himself in the room.</p><p>“Sleep on the couch. I’ll be here.”</p><p>“Finally letting me take the couch hm? Very good. I daresay it was rather rude of me to take your—is that a <em>cat?</em>”</p><p>“roach.”</p><p>“You named your companion after a<em> bug?”</em></p><p>Geralt doesn’t bother to respond, instead choosing to go back to meditating in hope that Jaskier will recognize the hint and go back the fuck to bed. Roach will give him a piece of her mind if he disturbs her sleep too.</p><p>He doesn’t hear a growl though. Instead, Roach seems to purr louder than before. Geralt casts a glance to her only to see her happily licking Jaskier’s fingers as if he had soaked them in milk.</p><p>“She’s a darling.”</p><p>“She’s a menace.”</p><p>Jaskier gasps in outrage, picking Roach up who snuggles in his arms, giving Geralt a glimmering look of mischief. He raises an eyebrow.</p><p>“Well, Roach, you are just the <em>sweetest.</em> The next time I’m here, I’ll bring you a can of tuna hm? I’m sure you’ll enjoy getting spoiled since your grumpy owner probably feeds you only kibble.”</p><p>A sly smirk crawls on Jaskier’s face as he looks to Geralt. And as much as he doesn’t want to admit, kid had a point. “Hm.”</p><p>He sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him that though. But he still hears the silent chuckle as Jaskier settles himself down on the couch, the smell of warmth back again and the sandalwood and mint heavier than before and while it drive Geralt’s senses crazy, he only smiles to himself, falling back into a trance as Jaskier falls asleep, with Roach tucking herself into his side.</p><p>And he promptly refuses to acknowledge Jaskier’s mention of next time because there will be no <em>next time.</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jaskier rouses to birds chirping out of Geralt’s window and a brightness that streams through. He scrunches up, burrowing further into the duvet on his bed before shooting upwards.</p><p>He’s back in his own bed.</p><p>“Bloody hell he’s <em>good.</em>”</p><p>Geralt must’ve carted him off when he passed out on the couch. Jaskier flops back down, sighing out his sadness as <em>yet again</em>, he’s going to have to go back into the woods to find him.</p><p>Because now that he’s a least seen the cabin where Geralt lives and seen the emptiness inside of it. And then there’s the darling Roach, who is just as cute as a button (and evidently needs some good pampering because Geralt seems like the kind of man who only cares about healthy things and probably has the poor thing on a <em>diet</em>). Whose going to spoil her rotten if not Jaskier?</p><p>Triss always claims he’s a person who falls in love to fast. That may be true, but Jaskier has loved every one of those people he’d been with and now…</p><p>Now he can see it with Geralt. Covering the cabin in quilts and blankets that are theirs, him going into town to get the groceries and then coming home to Geralt working in the garden, feeding those chickens, or chopping wood. Shirtless, preferably.</p><p>A cabin in the woods doesn’t seem like a bad idea at all. There’s something…familiar about it. A drowsy smile grows on Jaskier as he thinks about a future with the man he slowly rises up and crumples the bedding under his fingers. “Wait a minute…”</p><p>He looks down and the smile grows as Jaskier realizes the blanket he took from the couch covers his bed.</p><p>Geralt must’ve brought him home wrapped in it. He takes a deep inhale of the smell, grinning like an absolute fool because it smells like the man in the woods.</p><p>Little does he know, that after Geralt got home from dropping off Jaskier, he went into his bedroom, where the smell of sandalwood and mint was strongest, collapsed on the bed and took a deep inhale of the pillow where Jaskier’s head had been…</p><p>And promptly passed out, for once in his life, perfectly content.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Outfit Inspiration: </p><p> </p><p>Geralt: </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier: </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Roach: </p><p>
  
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Gotta love horny Jaskier. </p><p>Okay folks. Chapter 7 coming at ya in two weeks. See you then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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